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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743831">God Bless The Children Of The Beast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabella/pseuds/Kabella'>Kabella</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Football, Gay, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marching Band, Music, OFC - Freeform, Smut, Terrorcest - Freeform, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:14:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>85,066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabella/pseuds/Kabella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1978. Tommy Bass is not having an easy start to his Junior year. His friends are annoying, the girls are clingy, his parents are way to up in his business, and marching band is not floating his boat anymore. Not to mention that he's plagued with inner turmoil that only seems to be getting harder to ignore. But, that's generally what he does best. Slap on a fake grin and go with the flow.</p><p>Nikki, a recent transplant, hates school. He's not looking to make friends or get involved. He's here for one reason, a major incentive. Fuck everything else. Only, after a few weeks, maybe things aren't so bad. Could he actually be fitting in? An invite to the football team may have been a turning point. At the very least, it's helping him to get his aggression out; especially since homelife pretty much sucks.</p><p>This unlikely pair eventually meet up. As they get to know each other, they begin to learn things about themselves. Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side, and sometimes it's shit brown.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tommy Lee/Nikki Sixx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In the Beginning...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>**Aah, sorry. My finger slipped on a tag and l accidentally had this labeled as Tommy/Vince. I only noticed because it wasn't showing up on my feed. My apologies to any readers from that ship. This is Tommy/Nikki.</p><p>I'm back! Sooner than I thought. I was given a writing prompt for a one shot, and it turned into a 20 chapter story.</p><p>The original request for a one shot: Tommy and Nikki are in HS. Tommy is in the marching band, and Nikki is a football jock. One day, Nikki notices Tommy in the drum line, and the next day in school he tries to find out who he is.</p><p>So, yes, this is AU. Not my specialty, but I'm really happy with the outcome. If you're not into HS AU, please stick around anyway. If you're familiar with my writing and like my style, I think you will like this.</p><p>What really should have been a fluffy little story, has turned into a coming-of-age story. There's fluff, but also angst, hurt/comfort, humor, smut, and violence. I think that it will appeal to a broad audience of younger and older readers. The story is set in 1978, and there are a ton of references to the time period, including the rampant stereotypes and outdated ideals of the time. </p><p>Tommy Lee:  Is Tommy Bass in this story and is 16.</p><p>Nikki Sixx: Is Nicholas Feranna in this story. I really didn't feel like dealing with the name change from Frank. He's 17, and will be 18 soon.</p><p>Vince and Mick have smaller roles in this story as Vince Wharton (17) and Mick Mars (22).</p><p>Motley Crue does start to come together in this book, and the idea of forming a band is mentioned quite a bit through the story, but it's not the main point. This is more about Tommy and Nikki growing, learning, and dealing with life. An AU aspect of the band is that it forms earlier than canon.</p><p>One more AU thing. The time frame of this book starts right around the beginning of fall. Tommy's true birthday is right around then, but for this story, he remains 16, and his birthday is not addressed. Nikki's is, and it's on his true birthday. I think the relationship between the characters works better with Nikki having that slight advantage in age.</p><p>There are a few gay slurs in here, as well as stereotypes and outdated ideals that were prevalent at the time this story takes place.</p><p>There are 20 chapters. I'm keeping with my idea of writing stories and one shots for every song title from the Motley Crue studio albums. Shout at the Devil was next in line, so all of these chapter are SATD song titles. Since the book is longer than I expected, I had to have more chapters than there are song titles. So, I set out to do a little research to find more songs that Nikki wrote during this time period, but didn't make it to the album. I had to dig deep, but I found them. </p><p>I hope you enjoy. I'm posting two chapters to start, then it will be one chapter ever few days.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Nikki!” his mother screams. “Get your ass out of bed!”</p><p> </p><p>“Five more minutes,” Nikki groans, rolling over. “Fuck…”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no you don’t, young man. You’re not going to be starting a new school on the wrong foot. Get up, and get yourself dressed. You have 3 minutes to get yourself downstairs, or I take your radio away.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki lurches out of bed, and storms towards his bedroom door to slam it shut on his mother’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki! You better be downstairs! I swear, I mean what I said about the radio!”</p><p> </p><p>“Bitch,” Nikki says, as he scouts around his room for a clean-ish shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“I heard that!” his mother says, turning on her heel to go back down to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, Nikki is downstairs with a disheveled appearance, wearing a sleeveless Black Sabbath t-shirt, tired, droopy eyes, and his dyed black hair pointing in every which direction.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki’s mother, Deanna, shakes her head. “Dressed to impress, I see. When are you going to start taking life seriously? You look like a basement troll.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you look like a drunk,” Nikki says, with a taunting smirk.</p><p> </p><p>Deanna slaps her son with force across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for completing my look,” Nikki sneers, keeping his smirk intact, as he puts the open bottle of bourbon, sitting on the counter, to his lips. He wipes his mouth with his arm in an exaggerated way in front of his mother, snatches his nutritious Pop-Tart breakfast off the counter, then turns away towards the front door, grabbing his leather jacket as he leaves.</p><p> </p><p>This is Nikki’s first day at a new school. His third one within a month. The first one he left, due to moving away. The second one…. well, he got kicked out within a week for threatening a teacher with violence after he embarrassed him in front of the class. Nikki doesn’t like school, and doesn’t see the purpose of it anymore. He’s a lot smarter than people give him credit for, reading being one of his escapes from a troubled home life. Yeah, maybe he doesn’t know much about the Pythagorean Theorem, quantum physics, or the difference between Puritans and Pilgrims; but who really gives a shit. He can read. He can write. Learned about science through his own exploration, and history through obscure books.</p><p> </p><p>He knows where the school is. He needs to catch the corner bus. Nikki considers skipping, but against his better judgement, decides to go. Why? Easy… it’s bribery. He’s been promised a stereo if he can make it to Christmas break without being expelled or dropping out. This was actually a peace offer from his grandparents. They want what’s best for him, and are out of ideas on encouraging him to stay the course. They had to swoop in with some sort of resolution when Deanna called them up a week ago with angry tears, crying about how humiliating it was for her to have to come pick up Nikki from school from a detention closet, being told that he’s not allowed back. </p><p> </p><p>She unleashed a bunch of violent and hurtful threats about her son to her parents’ listening ears. She wanted to give up on him. She’s tired of being looked upon as a bad mother, every time she’s called to pick him up or she’s receiving a phone call about his bad behavior. The problem is, she is a bad mother, because a good mother would address the problems, listen to the issues, and help find solutions. But a bad mother, just gets angry, yells, and threatens without resolving anything.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki doesn’t care anymore. He’s used to it. It was only a few years ago that he was still trying to do things to please his mother; things to make her proud, things to soften her heart, things to help her see that she had a spirited, gifted son on her hands, but his attempts were always met with disdain and passive-aggressive behavior of subtly being told he wasn’t good enough, or could do better. He stopped trying after one of her boyfriends pushed him down half a flight of steps for simply interrupting their conversation when he was 14. Nikki hit his head into a wall, and is pretty sure a finger broke as he landed awkwardly on it. When the shock of what happened wore off, and he looked up to the step from where he just came from, seeing his mother standing up at the top, holding onto her smirking boyfriend’s arm. She stood there smoking and simply told him that whatever he has to say, can wait until later. He should know better than to interrupt. Then they walked away, back to the couch to carry on as if nothing just happened.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki was shocked how his mother could be so calloused. That prick could have broken his neck! He thought a lot about that incident. It was the turning point when he realized that not only was his mother hands-off and not interested in him, she didn’t care about him at all. It was then that <b>he</b> stopped caring. All that energy wasted, trying, for nothing in return, but a concussion and broken finger as parting gifts. He put the finger in a homemade splint himself, knowing that his fingers might be important to him someday, as he developed a great interest in music. It was his other escape, aside from reading. That’s the only reason he’s going to school today. He wants that stereo more than he’ll ever let on. He’s already made a list of the albums he’s going to buy, putting them in order from most desired to also most desired. The list is long, and he’s been adding to it almost every day; switching the order, with a mess of curvy arrows that only he’d be able to follow.</p><p> </p><p>The bus is here. Nikki gets on, and about 15 minutes later, is deposited in front of his new school. Big deal. Another fucking stupid, beige plaster-covered building with a deluge of clueless bimbos, locker room jocks, and pencil-neck geeks gracing the campus.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki takes a deep breath; determined to set the tone right away. He struts onto campus with a cocky, non-nonsense look upon his 17 year old baby face with his clenched jaw. It’s his damn baby face that always seems to bring the trouble upon him. Try as he might, he has yet to see a worthy follicle of facial hair pop through the pores on his smooth face. His features are striking against his flawless alabaster skin. For some reason, it’s often his face that draws attention to him, and second glances; thus the messy, black hair to draw attention away. Nikki tries anything to get people to see him as a menacing underworld creature, rather than a cloud-riding cherub; jade eyes hidden by greasy raven-colored hair, ear piercings, black clothes, and leather. Nikki is almost hoping that his mother’s fiery handprint is still written across his face to serve as a warning, as he starts passing by other students on his way to the main office. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not working. The stares are in full-effect; both boys and girls, craning for a second look. </p><p> </p><p>“Who the fuck is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Loser.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god, I think I’m in love.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fag.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey there.”</p><p> </p><p>These are just some of the comments Nikki heard, as he drew closer to the front steps of the school, triggering early resentment. They play over in his head, until one he wasn’t expecting rang out… too much, too soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, man. Um, if you’re looking for the office, it’s to your left. Um, well… I.. I’m just assuming that you’re new. I haven’t seen you, and well I pretty much know everyone. Well not everyone, but a lot. Um, are you new? I’m Tommy by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>The goofy kid says, standing there extending his hand for a shake. Nikki acknowledges the kid by pushing his hand out of the way, not bothering to even look at him, as he steps by.</p><p> </p><p>“OK, then. Uh, well, if you need anything else, um--”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki cuts him short by flipping him off behind his shoulder, as he continues towards the office.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy throws his hands up in surrender, as he’s been completely shut down. Two of his friends come up behind him, laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“Haha, Tommy’s looking to get his face rearranged today,” his friend Ralph says..</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t fuck with that one. Bet he’ll last week. Why you always trying to welcome everyone? It’s not your fucking job,” his other friend Kyle asks. “Hi! I’m Tommy, stupidest ass in school, part of the campus Welcome Wagon. Can I offer you a pineapple.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you, guys. I dunno. Just never know when your best friend for life might walk through the doors,” Tommy reasons, with an unconvincing smile. “Right? Don’t people usually meet their best friend by high school?”</p><p> </p><p>“Listen schmuck. Someone like that doesn’t want no friends. Guarantee he's plotting right now to bury your fucking ass after school for getting in his way.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shrugs again. “I introduced myself to you, and now we’re friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, so am I not good enough? Trying to replace me?” Kyle sneers.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I just thought maybe the new person could use a friend. Maybe he needs one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to save your ass when that motherfucker starts beating it at the 3pm bell. You gotta chillax, man. Not cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“Never thought I was cool,” Tommy says, furrowing his brow.</p><p> </p><p>“Well you don’t have to flaunt that fact.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Bass, speaking of not cool, I heard that Michelle dumped your lame ass this weekend,” Ralph says, slamming his hand firmly on Tommy’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Says who? I fucking dumped her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, man. I don’t believe you. She said you were too damn slow. She was dying to get laid by you. How could you fuck that up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I… listen. I just didn’t wanna fuck her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think our baby boy here is still a virgin,” Kyle says, smacking Tommy’s ass.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve done it,” Tommy says, unconvincingly, sounding way too defensive.</p><p> </p><p>“With who, your second cousin?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, my neighbor,” Tommy says, starting to walk towards homeroom.</p><p> </p><p>“No shit? Like a Mrs. Robinson thing?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, stupid. A girl. Not her mom.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The warning bell rings out….. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Talk to you guys later. I gotta haul ass to homeroom,” Tommy says, jetting off, glad to get away from that conversation. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes he wonders if these guys are really his friends. Maybe? Tommy has a lot of “friends” because he’s a social being, but none who are truly close to him because most people seemed embarrassed by his spastic antics. He makes for a great class clown, but no one seems much interested in looking beyond the surface; it’s just too exhausting. So, he’s always on the lookout for that one person who he’s just going to click with. That new kid… that would have been a long shot. </p><p> </p><p>His friends were right, that guy was probably 2 seconds away from pounding his face inside out. Something just told him to say ‘hi’ though. Maybe it’s because Tommy’s been questioning his own sexuality. He knows he’s supposed to like girls, and he does find several of them attractive, but they don’t seem to hold his interest. At 16 he knows he’s a quasi-mess, trying to understand himself; working daily to convince himself that he’s just like everyone else; hot and fast for the girls. Only problem is, he finds himself thinking about things, like the handsome outline of that strange kid’s face, more so than Cindy’s nipples poking through her tight shirt, who’s sitting directly across from him.  </p><p> </p><p><em> Why? </em>Tommy says, as he drops his head onto his desk; not willing to entertain the thought of what his preference truly is.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi Tommy,” Cindy says, leaning over towards his seat while intentionally making her tits noticeable. “I heard that you and Michelle broke up,” she breaths.</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking news travels fast,” Tommy snaps.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, Tommy. My parents are visiting with my sick grandma today. They won’t be home until late,” she says, drawing her tongue over her painted lips.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope she pulls through.”</p><p> </p><p>Cindy huffs. “I’ve been kind of upset about it, and wouldn’t mind someone coming over to keep me company.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well….. I--”</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas Bass!” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy hears his name ring out.</p><p> </p><p>“Here!” he replies, raising his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me what you were going to say,” Cindy says, a hint of seductive desperation in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“You see, I--”</p><p> </p><p>“Cynthia Everett!”</p><p> </p><p>“Here!” the girl snaps, rolling her eyes. “God, so annoying. Anyway, Tommy… I was thinking that maybe we--”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit!” Tommy says, dropping his ever-present drumsticks on the floor; maybe intentionally.</p><p> </p><p>He stoops to pick them up, as the teacher is snapping her wooden pointer on the desk to garner his attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Bass, it might be in your best interest to watch your language. Take mind of all of the young ladies in this classroom who you’ve just subjected to your offensive language.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Mrs. Worth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mrs. Worth, I didn’t feel subjected to the offense,” Cindy says, trying to stick up for her newest conquest, batting her eyelashes with her bosom thrusting forward.</p><p> </p><p>“Miss Everett, might I suggest that you turn your attention back to face the blackboard, and refrain from sharing your assets with irreverent young men. Let this be a warning to both of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Cindy huffs, as she turns back towards the front, pursing her lips.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy is relieved, as he’s now allowed more time to think up an excuse to not go over to Cindy’s. A few months ago, a rumor started that ‘<em> Tommy </em> <b> <em>Bass</em> </b> <em> has the largest cock in the </em> <b> <em>class</em> </b> <em> .’ </em>OK, so it’s not really a rumor. There’s some truth to it. He’s not sure if he’s the largest, but he’s sure he’d be in the running at least. This news has breathed new life into his plateaued popularity. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy went through an awkward growth period, not too long ago, resembling a hybrid Greek mythological creature of half cutie-pie, half giraffe. His appeal to the girls was on the fence; that is until his swimsuit got pulled down to his ankles at a backyard pool party by the party host, Vince, who immediately shoved him into the pool before he had a chance to yank them back up, causing the shorts to completely come off in the water. They were fished out of the pool by another scheming friend, and thrown over the privacy fence, leaving Tommy no choice but to emerge from the pool in his full bare-ass robust glory. </p><p> </p><p>This turned out to be a transforming event for Tommy; somewhat backfiring in the faces of his friends, as they all became acutely aware of Tommy’s blessing, feeling their own junk shrink tight, retreating inward into their groins in shame. </p><p> </p><p>Word spread quickly, even among the football jocks. Insecure in their own offerings, they’ve been spending their days throwing empty threats towards Tommy; with an occasional shove into a locker. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy is left scratching his head how his basic anatomy has suddenly thrown him into the realm of love and hate. The girls love him; a Greek god with suburban boyish charm. And with the exception of his fairweather friends, the dudes hate him; straight-up competition. It’s not exactly a place Tommy likes being in. First, it gets kind of old having his face become one with the cold metal of a locker. Second, the girls are coming at him hot and heavy, and he’s not even sure he wants this, at all. He simply likes just being his goofy, scattered, friendly self; not an object of legends.</p><p> </p><p>It’s true, Tommy and a neighborhood girl did lose their virginity to each other, but other than that, Tommy hasn’t felt motivated to continue to explore the depths of the female anatomy. Clarity is all he seeks right now, that and maybe a second glance at that new kid. Tommy sighs, as the homeroom bell rings, and it’s off to math class to discuss measurements other than his own ruler. <em> Bye Cindy. </em></p><p> </p><p>---------------</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. God Bless the Children of the Beast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nikki is finding his way.</p><p>Tommy's day doesn't go as planned.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nikki wound up being held up in the office for at least 50 minutes, as they shuffled to make changes to his schedule. Nikki can only wonder if it’s his appearance that freaked them out, and they’re now scrambling to put him in the classes with burn outs and delinquents. If Nikki chose to apply himself, he believes that he could perhaps be in honors classes, but the problem is, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s not here to apply himself. The easy classes will do him just fine, so he can effortlessly cruise his way towards a new stereo. He thinks his grandparents missed an opportunity. They should have brought his grades into the equation. Passing grades would grant him upgrades on the stereo, or maybe a record or two thrown in. But with no such clauses in the agreement, only that he not be expelled or drop-out, it sounds like an easy score, but time will tell. Nikki knows he’s quick to anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he’s set loose with his hand-scribbled, crossed-out mess of a schedule. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>1st Period - Remedial English</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>2nd Period - World Geography</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>3rd Period - Study Hall</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>4th Period  - Phys Ed</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>5th Period - Lunch</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>6th Period - Consumer Math</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>7th Period - Biology 1</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>8th Period - Metal Shop</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Should be a breeze. As Nikki strolls casually to his geography class, he can see the lines drawn through the classes he was originally scheduled to take: English III, Algebra 1, Business Basics. There’s a slight sting. He hates being judged by his appearance. What... they don’t think he’s capable of being business minded, instead throwing him in Metal Shop with the other delinquents. Maybe, just maybe he’ll fashion himself a nice, sharp knife, and show them who’s who’s. On the other hand, maybe it was a rereading of his records from prior schools that prompted the schedule changes. He’s sure it’s riddled with phrases like: combative, failure, lacks motivations, problem child, truant. Nikki shrugs, stuffing the paper into his back pocket, as he stands in front of his classroom. Here goes nothing…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geography class was full of sideways glances from the wallflowers, hair flipping and pouty lips from the girls, and cracking knuckles and clenching fists from the other leather clad, torn jeans crowd. This can go one of two ways for Nikki. He can keep up his attitude, and risk a future full of fist fights, or he can try to gain rapport with some of these slackers by commenting on their rock band t-shirts and band logo scribblings on their notebooks. He’s not sure yet. It will be something to ponder during study hall, but he knows that he’s soon going to be in need of a dealer hook-up. If anyone in school has a reliable source, these are the dudes to safely ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While in study hall, Nikki chose to ease his mind off of being the new kid, by adding to his record album wishlist, being reminded of a few songs that he likes as he studied the notebook doodles of his classmates. A kid, also clad in a concert t-shirt and torn jeans, asks if Nikki wants to join him in the smoker’s pavilion for the last 10 minutes of study hall. Why not. The kid bums a smoke from Nikki. He’s probably being used. He lets it go instead of confronting the user. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bell rings, and it’s time for phys ed. Nikki does not have gym clothes to change into, and is given a pass today to remain in his jeans, as long as he removes the jacket. Today is an old-fashioned game of dodge ball. Nikki is aware before it even starts that he’s going to be the number one target. He tells himself that he can’t get himself kicked out on the first day. He knows that he can kick any one of these motherfuckers’ asses, but he’s going to try to show grace today; something he does once a year in an attempt to redeem his condemned soul.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikki’s predictions are spot on. The ball was whipped towards him more than anyone else; aimed towards his face the majority of the time, and whipped right back. About 20 minutes in, some kid on roids, body chucks Nikki, landing him on the ground. Unable to control his anger, he gets to his feet and shoulder rams the jacked-up kid into the cinder block wall with force. The kids exhaled with an “oof” as he stood half stooped over, trying to catch his breath from having the wind knocked out of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Feranna!” the gym teacher yelled out, motioning for Nikki to approach him by wagging his finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Only three periods into the school day, and he’s already gonna have discipline dispensed, Nikki realizes as he approaches the teacher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You ever play ball?” the coach asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, like catch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you damn fool. Football! You got a solid frame. Just what we need for a strong defense line.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikki shakes his head no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to see you out there on the field, son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikki bristles at that term, son. He’s nobody’s son. “Not my thing,” Nikki says, crossing his arms, in a challenging stance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen big shot, you’ll begin to earn the respect of these meatheads if you join the team.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not looking for their respect. I just like to kick some fucking ass, any time I have the chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, son, football just might be your way to do that without getting suspended,” the coach says, shaking Nikki’s shoulder. “Think about it, Feranna. Come see me out on the field after school. And watch your mouth, punk” he says, knocking Nikki on the side of the head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikki unwinds at lunchtime, finding a shady corner on the outside pavilion to hide away, with an apple, a buttered roll, coffee, and a book. He’s not overly hungry, barely able to admit to himself that it’s nerves. In between paragraphs in the book, Nikki thinks about the football invitation. While he’s never considered himself a jock, nor associates himself with the arrogant bastards, the thought of bashing heads in ‘legally,’ intrigues him. He whips his apple core over the fence, and turns the page of his book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy spent much of the school day trying to achieve 2 things. One, avoid Cindy. Two, keep an eye out for that new kid. He wants a better look. No such luck on either front. Cindy approaches Tommy half way through lunch, finding him flicking food onto the side of the building to make his friends laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, hi, Tommy” the perky girl says, nipples still protruding through the snug material, knee high socks, and short shorts revealing silky thighs. She lets out a contrived sigh. “I just came from the office. I got a phone call that my grandmother has ammonia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s pneumonia,” Tommy says, smirking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said. I’m really worried,” another not so subtle sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure she’ll pull through,” Tommy says, trying to look sympathetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cindy. Want a nipple of my Ding Dong? I mean nibble,” Tommy’s friend Vince snorts, holding up his chocolate Hostess snack cake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe VInce,” she blushes. “But, um, see Tommy was already thinking of coming over to console me after school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was?’ Tommy questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, you’re so dense sometimes. Remember? We talked about it in homeroom?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, great. I’ll meet you by the flagpole, and you can walk home with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But… I….” Tommy’s been duped. He sighs. “OK. The flagpole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Tommy, the pole,” she winks, as he prances away, hair bouncing, playfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy watches her walk away, a sliver of her ass cheeks, doing a peek-a-boo from under her shorts, when he’s suddenly brought back to earth by a smack on the back of his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is wrong with you, Tommy!” Vince shrieks. “Cindy one of the top 10 hot babes on my personal fuck wishlist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, man. She’s smokin’. See those nipples? They were so prominent that I could almost taste them. Mmmm,” Ralph says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and they were pointing in your direction, Bass. I mean, I was waiting for you to just palm her tits right there. You know she wanted you to,” Vince blares.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Missed your chance. It would have been epic.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess I’m going there after school,” Tommy says, a false grin on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I don’t see her walking into school tomorrow with bowed legs, I might need to rethink our friendship,” Kyle says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I should come with you, Tommy. Two are better than one. I was catching her vibe,” Vince says, popping his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I try to respect my ladies,” Tommy huffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No horny 16 year old kid respects horny 16 year old girls, unless your a fag. Maybe </span>
  <b>you </b>
  <span>should go, Vince. Your presence might help Tommy get off,” Ralph laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you. I’m not gay. I’m just selective.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cindy isn’t even an option for you to make a choice. If that girl wants to fuck you, you fuck her. It’s cut and dry. Don’t let your inches go to waste,” Vince advises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Helter Skelter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Homecoming. </p>
<p>Guess what? Neither Nikki nor Tommy give a fuck.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nearly 3 weeks have passed since Nikki started at his new school. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks a record has been set. He’s only been in detention twice… oh and two visits to the principal’s office. Thankfully no calls home. Bad language, cutting class, a flash of his pocket knife, and a minor hallway scuffle were the infractions this time; nothing atrocious. Nikki thinks it might be because he decided to look into that football proposition. Everything centers around football, right? It’s a rare day to see a player in deep shit trouble, at least through October.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had to think long and hard about the football thing. He decided to go for it for two reasons; to knock around fucking hardheaded athletes, and to get his aggressions out on the field to prevent him from snapping elsewhere. He still has the stereo in mind as an end goal. Honestly, he doesn’t see a diploma in his future, and certainly not a reuppence on the football team next year. He’s pretty much decided that he’ll be dropping out his senior year. Fuck football and mathematics. All he can think about is rocking, and that fucking stereo is just the ticket; a chance to really dive into music, and play his broken guitar along to the records. Radio play doesn’t allow for redos, when trying to learn. You just got wing it as the song plays through. Once it’s over, there’s no going back to it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the past two weeks, Nikki has gained some respect as someone to be feared out on the field. Maybe in the hallways too. Some of the team has been excited about his no holds barred way of tackling people on the field, while others have gotten their jockstraps in a bunch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Feranna!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, sir,” Nikki says, trotting up to the coach.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good form out there, son. We need that exact barbarity when we’re in the game. I know you got it in you, so do us all a favor…. Tone it down a notch during practice! These are your teammates, you dumb shit. We don’t need any dislocated shoulders or concussions on the practice field.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nikki clenches his jaw. “Yes, sir,” he replies, going back out to the field.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Atta boy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t help himself. It just feels so good. A slam here, a slug there. Nikki is quite aware that he’s being plotted against by a few of the elite team members, and really doesn’t give a shit. There’s always a knife in his pocket, and he has no problem drawing it out when needed. He’ll be ready, once the season is over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another new development is a girlfriend, or at least a good and consistent fuck. Nikki really isn’t boyfriend material. He doesn’t know how to be one. If the girl fucks and has an interest in music, it’s good enough. Nikki has been around the block a few times. He’s participated in a lot of drunken sex. Nikki has kind of thought of himself as gender fluid. Fuck it, if it feels good, why not?  Maybe it’s just a reaction to all of the neglect he felt as a child… to have adoring, able hands roving around his body to give him a thrill, a hole to stick his dick into. It’s all just release, same as the bashing of heads and bodies that he dishes out on the football field.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki has only really had true feelings for one person. It was a hard-rocking chick, named Bett, from his former city, Seattle. She taught Nikki how to play bass guitar. She was no-nonsense, and quite aggressive, and that got Nikki yearning. One could say she lacked softness that most boys look for in their girls, but Nikki was smitten by her sharpness, talking dirty and smacking him around during sex. Oh, and has it been mentioned that Bett was 21? She had that barely 17 year old wrapped around her finger, and locked into her vagina every chance he got. It was a thrill every time, as she taught him tricks and fucked him in his own hole with a variety of sex toys that she collected. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When it was announced by Nikki’s mom that they were relocating to southern California for a job opportunity, Nikki seriously contemplated running off with the girl. He had his knapsack packed, and when he convinced himself that this was what he was going to do, he found out that she was married and that he was merely her side project. Reeling and pissed, Nikki made the decision to make sure that news got leaked to the girl’s husband. But, instead of an explosive finale for the relationship, Nikki wound up being further used and exploited by becoming the couple’s boy toy, using him in the middle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He partook in delighting the couple until the day he and his mom slammed the doors of their 1967 Chevy Impala station wagon, and headed south. Nikki spent most of the two day ride in silence, thinking about all that fucked up shit. In the end, feeling relieved that he had a chance to preserve his last bit of childlike reticence that still lingered somewhere within him, before full corruption took up permanent residence in his soul. Besides, the music scene in L.A. was much more happening than anything in Seattle. This would be better, but he’d never let his mother know that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This girl now. She’s not his type. Pretty, popular, and whiny and ditzy. God, he can’t stand that. She’s always wanting something. The only thing that Nikki really wants to offer her is sex. And she does like it, a lot. Commenting more often than he cares to hear, about how her last boyfriend was so lame in bed. Nikki knows this won’t last. She’s too damn high maintenance, and he can’t really even give a fuck about any of her needs. He’ll just enjoy the sex and the vote of confidence that she gives him about his looks and skill set; feeling smug that with this one, he’s the one calling the shots.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy steps back inside his house from the garage, where his drum kit is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sounded good,” his homemaker mom chirps out sweetly, as Tommy passes through the kitchen twirling his sticks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Think so?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. Is something wrong? You’re always so confident about your playing. It did sound good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m fine. Just in a little rut, I guess. Marching band season kind of takes the wind out of my sails. It’s so strict. Sometimes, I just miss jamming, and I think maybe I forget how to lay down the beats in a natural progression.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, I’m so proud of you. There’s only a few weeks left of the season, then you can drum at your leisure again,” his mother smiles, warmly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I can’t wait. I’m not sure if I even want to do marching band next year,” Tommy sighs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no. Why not? You’re so talented,” his mother, Voula says, with a concerned look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s hard to explain. It’s just that my friends are more free to enjoy normal teenage stuff, like checking out some bands or movies. And I always feel like I’m stuck at practice. I mean, I wanna drum, but not on a football field. I want to be at one of those night clubs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, marching band is a great asset for your college applications. There’s so much character-building discipline with marching band. Basement bands are just hobbies. Think about your future.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am, mom. See you at dinner. I might take a nap, or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy heads up to his bedroom, kicks his shoes off, puts a record on his stereo, and lays back in his bed with his sticks. He seems thoroughly perplexed by life these days. It’s a number of things that are troubling him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>First, that girl, Cindy dumped him, and told at least half of the school that he doesn’t know how to use what he’s been blessed with. Apparently she’s moved on to some football jock now. It’s not a huge deal. He liked her enough, but something just wasn’t exciting him the way he wanted to be excited. Which leads to his next troublesome factor; he’s close to coming to the conclusion that he’s gay, or at least bi-sexual. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah… you know, it’s gotta be just a little case of bi-sexuality, he reasons with himself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he just needs a little experimentation to get it out of his system. The only problem is, he knows that no one will accept this. Who would be his willing guinea pig? No one at school feels the way he does, so he just doesn’t let on. His friends are ribbing him more and more, but he won’t ever let on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A new girl has fastened her eyes on him already. He’s fine with that. It keeps the reality of the situation at bay. He’ll just keep faking his way through. Maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl yet. A lot of these girls, who are bold enough to approach him, have nothing but hot air in their heads. They bore him. He tries to keep things lively with his class clown antics. They work sometimes, keeping the girls laughing in school. But when he’s alone with them, they tell him to grow up. They’re just no fun, and the sex, it’s just mediocre. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That new kid that he saw a few weeks ago, has never resurfaced. After a few days, Tommy gave up looking for him in the hallways, figuring that he left the school already. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Why do things need to be so complicated</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Friday. The school’s homecoming game is tomorrow afternoon, followed by the homecoming dance. It’s a big deal. The alumni come out. The parents are there. They need to nail this final practice today before the game. Tommy thinks that it’s funny that he narrowly missed getting his name on the ballot. Well, actually not his name, his cock. There were numerous write-ins on the nominating ballots for Tommy Bass’s Cock for the junior class homecoming king. And it would have been a hell of a king to crown. Maybe a nice gold-colored condom would have been rolled down on it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it got him called down to the office to be reprimanded. Like how was that his fault? He noticed the female vice principal occasionally glancing down at his groin as she reprimanded him for inappropriate behavior, as he sat in the chair with his legs intentionally splayed open. She definitely wanted to know what was in there behind the zipper. It was the only thing that made the entire incident worth it to Tommy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He, himself, threw a vote in for his friend Vince, and not surprisingly, he made it to the ballot. So did Cindy. He wrote her in because, well 2 weeks ago, things were good between them. He really doesn’t have hard feelings about the break-up. He just wishes she’d stop yapping about his inadequacies in bed, like that’s all there is to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy makes his way down to the field for marching band practice, standing on the track spinning his sticks. For a moment he envisions himself sitting behind a drum kit, spinning his sticks and the crowd goes wild. The singer demands that the crowd puts their hands together for the kick ass drummer. The bass drops out, the guitarist runs a few quiet chords. Then the chaos begins. It’s Helter Skelter as the drummer slams down on the skins like a beast! The cymbals never stop vibrating, and the bass drum channels a pulse through the floor. Yes! YES!!! Give it up for Tommy Bass! He stands up to take a bow, when suddenly the roar of the applause resembles the smarmy sound of the brass marching players warming up on the bleachers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still feeling roused, Tommy turns towards the athletic field to see the rowdy football players pounding each other, the coaches screaming obscenities, and a whistle blaring non-stop. Tommy stands there watching the barbarians, as one player removes his helmet and starts swinging it around like a club, smashing at least 2 people in the face, and another square in the back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The aggressor is taken down with a tackle, about 5 players squashing him to the ground. He can only see the player’s raven-colored hair sticking out from underneath all of the other bodies. He must be tasting dirt right about now. Probably serves him right. Most likely the king of all douchebags. He can’t be sure; but he doesn’t remember any sophomores, juniors, or seniors with shaggy black hair on the team. Maybe they let a freshman on the team. They’ll make an exception if the kid is that good. He couldn’t quite make out his jersey number amidst the chaos.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy turns his attention back to the bleachers, and gears himself up to get his tenor drum strapped on, and ready to go.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The band is out on the field, concentrating on formations for the halftime show. The football players are far enough away. On occasion Tommy will attempt to keep an eye drawn towards the players to watch for stray footballs. Last year a female flutist got knocked out by one. She was just a dainty little thing. The ball just slammed her at the right angle to cause her to go down. When she came to, all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The jocks were keeping score. She was 7 points, and they got the extra 3 points for the TKO. The shy girl became known as Touchdown Tara after that. Then rumors started about how she got that questionable name. It wasn’t nice. She moved away a few months later. He’s not sure if it was due to that incident. Tommy felt badly for her, but was more relieved that it wasn’t him who got hit. No way he’d want to be Touchdown Tommy. Actually flash forward to today, maybe he would. One or two of those guys have caught his eye. There’s not a chance in hell that he’d ever let on. He’d probably have to leave the school too after a thorough shower of humiliation. But still, he knows why the girls like these guys, a lot of them are well, handsome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And speaking of girls; there she is, Cindy; bouncing up and down on the side of the track, her tits jiggling like two firm Jello molds, trying to get her new boyfriend’s attention. Just a week or so ago, she was out there trying to attract Tommy’s attention. He doesn’t know why he cares. She just didn’t turn him on the way he had hoped. But, there’s still an irritating element to the whole display of her jiggling for someone else’s jewels. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy diverts his attention to the team to see who the “lucky” sucker is. Some tall kid. He forces his laced up pants down in the front and pulls his dick out from his cup to flash her; tucking it back in before the coach catches him. Tommy looks back at Cindy and sees her cross her arms, and spin around to her friends. He embarrassed her. Tommy is mildly amused. She apparently didn’t like Tommy’s respectful approach to their relationship, so what does she expect? It can’t be respect that she’s after.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The 16 year old returns his attention back to his drumming. They’re going over some complicated steps for a show-stopping half-time gig. Tommy bangs on the drum, and throws his hand in the air to twirl his sticks, when without warning they’re knocked out of his hand by a wayward football. The tall kid, #6, who just flashed his junk to Cindy, trots over to retrieve the ball. He walks a few feet past Tommy, bends over, his ass in tight pants display in grand fashion, right before the drummer’s eyes. The player stands upright again, the ball tucked under his arm, the drumsticks in the other hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, man,” #6 says, as he squeezes Tommy’s shoulder, handing the sticks to him. He sprints back towards the players. Tommy swallows hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck was that?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Babe, are you still mad at me?” Nikki asks his girlfriend, as he sits on her plaid couch, propping his feet up on her coffee table in the downstairs rec room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone knows that we fuck now,” Cindy huffs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s a problem how?” Nikki shrugs, as he taps a cigarette out of the box.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re new. Nobody fucks the new guy until he’s been accepted into the fold.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck the fold. I’ll bash their fucking heads in if anyone challenges me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki… you humiliated me in front of my friends. I told them we weren’t fucking,” Cindy says, as she attempts to lay a needle on the right track of a spinning </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cars</span>
  </em>
  <span> record on the turntable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t come down to the field with your tits bouncing in front of me. I’m weak, baby. You tease me. I respond the only way I know how,” Nikki says, focusing on lighting his Marlboro.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just don’t do that again. I’m sure half of the marching band saw it too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was my version of the halftime show. And speaking of the marching band, who’s the drummer?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s at least a dozen of them. Uh, Roger, James King, Paul, Marcel. Uh, who else?” Cindy says, tapping her finger to her chin, avoiding saying Tommy’s name too soon. She’s not sure why Nikki is asking, and doesn’t want to appear eager regarding his mention, since he is her ex.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The one that fucking spins his sticks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhhh, that’s Tommy,” Cindy says, biting her lip with a smile. “Why do you want to know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coz I’m gonna put together my own band someday, and I need a good drummer,” Nikki says, blowing smoke out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh. I told you my mom doesn’t like you smoking down here,” Cindy says, waving her hand around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why’s there a fucking ashtray on the table?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s for company.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s that make me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My boyfriend isn’t company. And I think that Tommy is too timid for a rock band.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s the one who almost got his penis on the homecoming ballot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki snorts out a laugh, as he continues burning down his cigarette.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And, today was the last day to vote for the ballot names. You voted for me right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I actually forget to give a shit about that. Sorry, babe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki! Seriously! My own boyfriend didn’t vote for me!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgot. And why do you think that drum kid is too timid?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fudge cares about Tommy. You didn’t vote for me!” Cindy shrieks, sitting herself down on the couch in dramatic fashion, crossing her arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should care. I’m looking to put together the best fucking band some day, and I need to start looking at options. What the kid’s last name?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Bass! Rhymes with ass, which is what you are right now. How could you forget to vote?! You want me to care about some pipedream band of yours, and you can’t even vote for something that’s really important to me?” Cindy spouts, trying her hardest to squeeze out a few crocodile tears for dramatic flair. “Maybe we shouldn’t even go to the dance together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, come on. You’re still gonna win, right? And speaking of ass, how about you let me see yours. I’ll make you feel good, baby,” Nikki says, as he begins hiking up her shirt to take hold of her breasts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Cindy softens with a smile, as she gropes her perky rack herself to present the pair to Nikki like a gift from the gods. “By the way, I’ll be in white tomorrow night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki knows he’s a master manipulator. He doesn’t give one shit about that stupid homecoming garbage; the crowning or the dance. All he has on his mind is getting laid, and a tall, handsome talented drummer with a giant cock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Saturday - </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is in his closet deciding what to wear for the dance. His date, Melissa, is wearing a powder blue off the shoulder dress. Tommy just happens to have a pair of powder blue hip huggers, but he thinks it might be too much. What else goes with blue? He has no fucking clue. This is so stupid. Does rust color go? Beige? Fuck, maybe just brown pants with his silk shirt with the butterfly collar that has some baby blue in the pattern. Yeah, that will do. Brown belt and Oxfords. Gold chain. Far out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He puts the clothes aside for later, after the game and a shower, gathering up his marching band stuff for now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Immediately following the half-time presentation - </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy unstraps his drum, glad to be done with the choreographed stuff; the rest of the game they just jam for team spirit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An oration stand is being step-up on the track in preparation for the announcements of the homecoming winners. Tommy feels a twitch in his pants, as his cock protests its disqualification. He wonders if he could have made it to the stand as the crowned winner. He takes a seat in the bleachers with his band mates and stares out into the outer reaches of the track, watching the nominees assemble near a decked out Cadillac Eldorado convertible, shined up and waxed to carry the senior class winners around the track for a victory lap. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The leftover football players, who weren’t nominees, sit in the front row bleachers. Tommy scans the backs of their jerseys, looking for #6. He’s not to be found. He’s curious to know who that is. His helmet obscured most of his face yesterday when they came face to face. All he could see was a gleaming smile through the helmet mouth guard. Not a big deal, but Tommy is one who likes to solve mysteries. He’s pretty sure that he’s the only one on the team that he doesn’t know. And damn, he’s just gotta know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly the shitty PA system screeches and whines, as a static-riddled rendition of a top 40 Andy Gibb song blares outs. Tommy shields his ears from the god-awful racket. It gets worse when the school principal steps up to the mic and spouts off some welcome back sentiments and school legacy bullshit, as Andy Gibb croons about wanting to be your everything. Finally the nominees are announced, in order from freshmen to seniors, as they walk along the track towards the podium, waving and smiling, like any of this shit is gonna matter by tomorrow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the nominees are all assembled in front, the winners are revealed. The junior class winners are Cindy and fucking Vince. Cindy takes hold of the dark blonde baseball player’s arm, and waves her manicured hand around, as she acts shocked by the announcement. He can’t quite get a read on Vince’s face. He has a feeling that Vince believes he deserves the title, yet is disliking the pomp and preening that comes along with it. As much as Vince is about as narcissistic as they come, he’s not one to embrace the typical high school milestones. He’s not going to look back at his high school years and remember the day he was crowned Junior Homecoming King in 1978, he’s going to remember whether or not he got drunk and laid that night, and how many times and by who. He’ll lose that crown by the end of the night, crushed underneath some girl’s ass in some drunken fuck mishap. Whereas Cindy, her crown is going to be placed on some high shelf, something to be proud of for years to come. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of, Tommy looks around again for #6, the one he suspects is her boyfriend, but there’s still no sign of him. Tommy wonders how his kid feels about Cindy’s arms all wrapped up in Vince. He’s gotta be here somewhere, he saw his number flash by on the field during the first half, but not since.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Running Wild Through The Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the homecoming dance-</p>
<p>Nikki is being naughty</p>
<p>Tommy is bored </p>
<p>Maybe they can meet somewhere in the middle?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had a small whoops. I was spelling Deana's name wrongly in this book. I'm usually so careful about intricacies like that. I fixed it in this chapter. I'll eventually go back and fix prior chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s half time. Nikki has slipped out from among the team, and has made his way into the wooded area behind the track and field; gathering a few stoner friends from his classes along the way; one being that cigarette user kid. He doesn’t think that he’ll be missed. Nikki and his two pals, sit with their backs against the backside of a large boulder, passing a joint around. He doesn’t give two fucks about homecoming, Cindy, the dance, or football; his only goals at the moment are a lasting high, a chance to damage a few more football players, and a good lay by the end of it all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki, leans the back of his head against the rock and closes his eyes, as he feels the effects of the weed filling in the gaps within his large frame, pulling his physical and mental states into one cohesive unit, melding into one another. He feels fulfilled. His phantasmic thoughts are interrupted by a cacophony of hisses, boos, and cheers from the nearby guest bleachers, along with the putt putt of a struggling exhaust system of a V8 showboat car. It’s the fucking homecoming shit, rounding it’s way around the track. That means that the second half of the game is about ready to reconvene. He’s gotta get back out there before he’s missed. Little does Nikki know that only one person has noticed that he’s gone missing for the past 30 minutes, and it’s not Cindy nor the coach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki helmets up, and slips back in among the players. No one even glances his way. Just how he wants it. The coach gathers the players in for a pep talk; shit about keeping their lead, and how it’s shameful for the home team to lose the homecoming. “It never happens!” he barks. “Don’t be losers!” Nikki is quite aware, through locker room chatter, that it happened just 2 short years ago. The fucking team lost, yet somehow the coach conveniently forgotten that for the moment. Why bring negatively into the moment? But frankly, Nikki doesn’t give a shit whether they win or lose. Who cares. But as he pretends to care, he glances over towards the home side bleachers to scan the marching band. There’s that jumbo-dicked drummer. He contemplates whether he should approach him after the game, or at the lame dance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Feranna!” the coach barks, snapping Nikki’s attention towards him. “Get your head back in the game. I wanna see your trademark brutality burning out there. And keep your damn helmet on!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes sir!” Nikki yells back, with stifled aggravation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come here!” Coach growls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki steps over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Take your helmet off!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you just--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Take it off!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki removes his helmet, and tries to avoid eye contact.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You on something, Feranna?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, sir,” Nikki replies, his jaw flexing during the uncomfortable hang time, as the coach tilts his head back and forth during the on-the-spot examination.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We need you today. I know you don’t give a shit about this fru-fru homecoming circus sideshow, unlike your teammates who are daydreaming about getting laid later. I need you to pick up the slack, bulldog. If we lose our edge, we’ll never gain it back. Their offense is strong. Pull out the stops, Feranna. Just keep that motherfucking helmet on before you get benched. And lay off the grass, fool!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, coach!” Nikki replies. Win or lose, he hasn’t really cared, but it’s validating to feel needed, for once in his life. He puts his helmet back on with an inner roar, and prepares to dish out some sweet punishment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s early evening. Nikki is in his room reluctantly getting dressed for the dance. If it weren’t for Cindy, he definitely would never grace the door of an event like this. He considers ditching it, but drops the notion, planning on making his own fun tonight. Besides he wants to try to track down that drummer; not even sure if Tommy will be there himself. If he’s cool, he won’t be there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki is reluctant to go downstairs. He knows his mom is eagerly waiting for him to come down. About a week ago, he brought Cindy home. Not to meet his mom, but to pick up some provisions; a flask and condoms. Deana seemed tickled by the pretty, little thing hanging on her son’s arm, snapping her gum. It made him seem, well…. normal for once; whatever normal is to her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She told him the next day that she was happy to see that school is actually taming him, and that he’d better not fuck anything up with his new relationship. Nikki was aggravated by his mother’s shallow observations. Fuck normal. Fuck perky girls. Fuck the school. Nothing there was changing who he is. She’s only setting herself up for further disappointment, when she soon realizes that Cindy is only around for sex, football is for fighting, and that school is just a means to earn a stereo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki tiptoes down the steps, hoping to escape the house undetected. No such luck. Deana planted herself in a chair near the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really, Nikki?” she huffs, shaking her head at his appearance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong,” Nikki snaps back, with aggressive posturing, standing there in black pants, black boots and a plain light pink button-up collared shirt opened at the top.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look like a cross between a someone in a motorcycle gang and a fag.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like to keep them guessing, mother,” Nikki smirks with a snarky tone, not allowing her judgemental comments to get the better of him, as he pulls out a cigarette to light from his tailored leather jacket hanging on the coat rack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can assure you that Cindy will think the same thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It won’t matter none, once our clothes come off in the locker room,” Nikki says, blowing smoke out in his mother’s direction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did I raise such a pig?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d like to give you credit, mother, but not sure I can since you were rarely around. Now, excuse me. I’m going to go wait on the fucking porch. It’s getting a little stuffy in here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t forget the corsage.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s a corsage?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’d be so lost without me, son. I got that for her, not you,” she says, pointing to the pocket-sized floral bunch on the coffee table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be sure to tell her that it’s not from me,” Nikki says, with another snarky grin, as he grabs it abruptly on his way out the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cindy’s 20 year old sister is picking Nikki up, and driving the couple to the dance. Nikki isn’t keen on that, but really has no choice, as he doesn’t have his own car. He paces on the porch for a few minutes until the car rolls up. His mom opens the door to peek out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Nikki even sets foot onto the porch steps, Cindy is out of the car, her arms flailing around, dress swooshing around her ankles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhhhhhh! I told you that I was wearing white!” she shrieks, storming from the car towards the porch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki throws his hands up, not understanding what the hell the problem is. Doesn’t white go with anything?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears his mother say <em> I told you so </em>, from the open door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Told me what!? Fuck you,” Nikki says, turning towards his mom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deana is suddenly gliding through the front door, in her fitted dress and lined stockings, onto the porch like a graceful Hollywood star from the golden age.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cynthia. What a beautiful young lady you are,” she sings out, in Joan Crawford fashion, extending her hand dramatically out to Nikki’s date to lead her up the steps to the porch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Cindy blushes, her sparkling eyes bat at Deana, before turning an icy shade as she glares at Nikki.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That look does not go with my dress,” Cindy huffs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, my tuxedo is at the dry cleaners,” Nikki bites back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deana pinches and twists a patch of skin on the back of Nikki’s ribs as she says, in a lady-like manner, “Don’t fret, darling. Why it just so happens that this lovely corsage has delicate pink flowers arranged in it, to tie you two together.” She lets go of Nikki’s skin, then grabs his hand holding the corsage, and thrusts it towards Cindy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, how thoughtful, Nikki.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, it’s not from me. My mother bought it so that I can appear charming.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, OK, I guess,” Cindy utters, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Put it on her, Nikki,” his mother sneers, as she holds a fake smile on her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He throws the plastic wrap off, and has no idea what to do next. He grabs the material of the dress, right where her cleavage is exposed, and starts to place the flowers there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my god! Are you stupid!? It goes here on the side,” Cindy growls, patting her lapel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The fuck should I know?” Nikki says, feeling a smack on the back of his head from his mother, as he readjusts where to pin the flowers on the dress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ll have to excuse my son’s uncivilized grammar. He doesn’t learn that from this house.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, just all of my other bad habits,” Nikki says, finishing with the flowers. “Come on, let’s go,” he takes Cindy by the arm to bring her down the steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have a good time!” Deana yells out, with a twinkling wave, like she’s June Cleaver. As soon as they’re in the car, Nikki sees his mother retreat back inside slamming the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seriously, Nikki. What are you wearing?” Cindy protests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before he can answer, he hears the driver say, “Cindy, are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She breathes an annoyed sigh, “Nikki, my sister Cathy. Cathy, Nikki.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s nice to meet you Nikki.” Cathy replies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He can see the twinkle in her eye as she looks back at him in the angled rearview mirror. He’s very familiar with that look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to meet you too, Cathy,” he fashions a sly, crooked grin on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I may have forgotten to tell you, Cindy. I’ll be chaperoning the dance afterall.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What! I told you…. You said you weren’t going to, and that you were going to the movie with your boyfriend.!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I changed my mind,” the sister says with a seductive smile towards Nikki in the mirror. “Mick will understand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my god. First I’m met with Nikki in street clothes, and now you, nosing in on <b>my</b> evening! This is a big night for me!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a fucking school dance, doll. Calm down. You’ll have more fun that way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Screw you, Nikki. And where the heck did you go after the game! You didn’t even congratulate me!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Homecoming! Idiot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What about it? We won the game. Big deal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Were you even paying attention! I won the crown!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh shit. That’s right. I’m sorry, babe. Uh, I meant to catch you after the game, but  I--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How can you forget that I won! You should be kissing my toes right now. You’re going to the dance with the junior class homecoming queen!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, fuck. Give me your toes,” says, abruptly pulling both of Cindy’s feet up from the floor, causing her body to twist on the seat, her head going back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As she struggles to reposition herself and her dress, Nikki is flinging her shoes off and already sucking on her nylon covered toes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki! Oh my god! Stop! My sister is here. I have pantyhose on,” she shrieks, batting him with her clutch purse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki lets go of her feet. “Just fulfilling your request.” He sees Cathy running her tongue along her top lip in the mirror.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just be normal for once. Stop pawing at me,” Cindy pants, as she straightens out her virgin white dress. We’re almost there. OK? Can you handle that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, babe. I’m sorry,” Nikki says with a little pout, throwing his arm around her. He’s not sorry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy stares at himself in the mirror. He’s not sure. He thinks he looks good, but the look bothers him, like he jumped off a page from the men’s department of the Montgomery Ward catalog. He capitalizes on that even further by putting on a matching brown vest. Whatever, he resolves. It’s one night; giving himself one final nod in mirror.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He slaps on some Jovan Musk, and goes downstairs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you think?” Tommy says, asking his parents about his appearance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, my handsome boy,” his mother beams.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look like a million bucks, son!” his dad adds in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess,” Tommy shrugs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Athena!!” mom hollers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coming!! Hold on!!” Tommy’s bitchy freshman sister replies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your brother has to leave to pick up his date! I’d like to get a picture of my two children going to a dance together for the first time!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mom…. you make it sound like we’re going with each other. Not cool,” Tommy groans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re gonna be at the same dance, aren’t ya?” his dad asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, dad. Come on, tell her to hurry. I’m going to be late.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Athena!” Tommy’s dad calls out sharply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She comes racing down the stairs, clumsily twisting her ankle on the last step, as she adjusts to wearing heels for the first time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Owww--uuuh,” she says, with an annoyed look on her face, as she slings the back of her heel on again, flinging her long hair back behind her shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aw, look at our beautiful children,” Voula says, seemingly near tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on! Take the picture. I gotta go,” Tommy snaps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dad holds the camera up, “Say, cheese!’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The kids roll their eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s going to be a horrible one. Take another, David,” mom insists.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the sake of time, both Tommy and Athena sport pleasant smiles for the picture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Much better. Have fun, Tommy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup,” he replies, walking out the door, out to his beat up van. Not much of a carriage to pick his date up in, but hey, it’s his wheels.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Melissa is ready when Tommy arrives. She smiles when she sees him, taking notice of the way the synthetic material that his pants are made from, stretches over his package nicely. Her mom takes a few pictures, and then they leave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Tommy… how long do you think that we’re going to stay at the dance?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know?” he replies, in a mumbled hum.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You gotta lotta room in here,” Melissa says, as she looks at the back cargo area behind the front seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. I use it a lot to transport leaves and dirt and shit to and from the house and the gardening center for my dad.” Tommy knows exactly where this conversation is leading. He’s not ruling out sex with Melissa, but his cock hasn’t woken up yet, even though she smells like sweet flowers and her soft exposed shoulders are begging to be sucked on. He has a condom tucked in his pocket just in case.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh. Well, it also seems like a nice place to lay back and relax.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy just smiles, not sure what else to say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>It’s 90 minutes into the dance. Tommy has been at the punch bowl 5 times. Everytime Melissa drags him out to the dance floor, she’s groping his ass and grinding her cooch against his junk. Tommy is sweating bullets. The first few times were simply awkward, and he just tried to reposition their stance. But the last few have gotten him aroused and bothered. I mean, that’s good, right? The girl is getting him cranked, but he already knows that the sex is going to fall short of her expectations. It’s already bad enough that Cindy has been talking among the ladies about his poor performances, so he doesn’t need two spreading the poisonous news around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On an upnote, Tommy caught a glance of #6. He’s here…. Or he was here. It’s been roughly a half hour since he’s been spotted. Cindy is still here, and has been cozying up to Vince on the dance floor during his absence. The lights are turned down, and the faces and bodies of everyone are only illuminated on occasion by dancing spotlights and mirrorball flashes. He has yet to get a solid look at #6’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Melissa and her friends are in the bathroom, Tommy sloshes around the ladle in the punch, for no other reason than boredom. He wants to leave…. by himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy, startled, looks up, and sees #6 standing before him, appearing disheveled and glassy-eyed, as the punch ladle is dropped and now sinking into the punch bowl slowly like the Titanic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh…. um...hey?” Tommy chokes out, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy Bass?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, that me. That’s my name.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy’s heart is pounding. He doesn’t know who this kid is. Why is he talking to him? How does he know his name, and isn’t he the new kid that he saw a few weeks ago, coming through the front door of the school. He thinks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re a drummer, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. I, um… I drum.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This <b>is </b>him. The bird flipper, the helmet basher, the jewel flasher; all one in the same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wanted to talk to you about something. Wanna jet? I gotta get outta here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, wait, um… aren’t you with Cindy? Um, she…. Well….”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen, do you want to go or not? I’m not sticking around. I got like 30 seconds before all hell breaks loose,” #6 says, keeping his eyes peeled towards the other side of the gymnasium.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, my date--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>#6 sees the girls gathering. “Come on, man. I gotta go,” he says, walking towards the shadows along the wall to slip out the side door undetected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy makes a split second decision to follow him. He can’t take another round of Melissa’s groping. He slips out the door, and quickly finds #6 walking away from the building.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Tommy says, in a whispering shout.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki motions with his hand for him to keep his voice down, as Tommy quickens his pace to catch up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where we going?” Tommy whispers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Away from here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got a car? I got mine here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You got a car here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah… well, a van. Um… we can leave,” Tommy says, motioning in the direction of his van.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Quick, let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They get to where it’s parked, hop in, and #6 tells Tommy to drive away somewhere. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy, for whatever reason, isn’t questioning this. He thinks he should be, as an uncomfortable pang grows in his belly; not to mention the fact that he’s leaving Melissa stranded at the dance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um… how about the diner parking lot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, no restaurants. They’re all going to be pouring in after the dance.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The grocery store?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever, man. Just away from school and away from places they’ll go to,” #6 says, as he lights up a cigarette without asking if he could smoke in the van.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Six or seven minutes later, Tommy pulls into the grocery parking lot, and parks near the Fotomat booth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, um…. Is this good?” Tommy says, nerves tickling the roof of his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Thanks,” the raven-haired kid says, flicking the butt out the window. “Man, I had to blow that joint. I fucked my girlfriend’s sister in the faculty bathroom. She was begging for it from the second I met her. Some kids saw us coming out together. I wasn’t about to stick around for the aftermath.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh, I can see how that could get bad,” Tommy says. “Uh, so you wanted to talk to <b>me</b> about something?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry. This is an unconventional way to go about it, I guess. I was on my way out of the dance, and I just happened to see you there. I don’t know, I figured that I may as well hit you up on my way out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And that is…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your drumming. I see the way that you click and flip your sticks. You do anything with drums beyond marching band?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy breathes a sigh of relief; it’s just about his drumming. He had no idea what this kid wanted. It was kind of disconcerting to wonder what it could be. He doesn’t even know anything about #6, at least nothing virtuous, which means that taking off with him the way he did could have led to bad news, like maybe kicking his ass for dating Cindy prior. He could be a jealous son of a bitch for all he knows.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. I have a drum kit at home. I’ve been drumming for years. I only joined the school band so that I could develop my skills further; not because I’m like a band nerd or anything.” Tommy doesn’t know why he said that last little bit. While there is a nerdy stigma attached to marching band kids, it’s far from true. Yeah, there’s definitely nerds throughout the bunch, but there’s just as many people in there who do for the love of music. Hell, even some of the nerds are actually pretty cool, if that makes any sense. Talented too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ever think about being in a band? I mean, like a rock band?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck. All the time. I mean, I guess that’s why I’m so driven to be the best I can be with the drums. Marching band is just a stepping stone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm….. well, I’ve been wanting to get a band together. But not just any fucking vanilla rock band, but something that going to turn heads. Something that’s going to stand out. I got a lot of fucking ideas, and when I see a drummer spinning and throwing sticks, it makes my brain flip.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah? What do you play?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s gonna sound lame as shit. I play bass, but right now, I only own a guitar, and it’s broken.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh. So, I guess that makes it kind of hard to start a band, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, I’m not worried about that. I got ways. I just need like-minded visionaries to help me build this. I saw you out there, and well, it’s fucking cool what you do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh, heh. I got a reputation on the field with my sticks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hear you have a reputation for something else too,” #6 laughs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All of the blood drains from Tommy’s face, and travels at lightning speed straight to his cock, filing it up rapidly. Tommy shifts uncomfortably. “Really? What’s that?” He already knows. This fucker is dating Cindy, afterall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Something that can only give our band a better reputation,” Nikki says, giving off an impish smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy swallows hard. It’s not what this guy thinks. He can’t possibly fulfill the role of lead chick fucker in the band. Every band always has one, and despite Tommy’s blessing, it can’t be him. He’s fucked now. Why does this burden have to afflict him? Why can’t he be just like everyone else? Just like #6, fucking Cindy’s sister in the bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a blessing and curse,” Tommy jokes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would that be a curse?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh… well…. I don’t know. It’s like Cindy’s tits. Everyone follows her around, wanting to cop a feel.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And? How’s that a curse?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, it’s just because I like to be more selective, I guess. Like my date tonight. She didn’t want to put her hands around my shoulders while we danced, she wanted to put them on my cock, and well, I--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why didn’t you take her to the bathroom, man? Or your van?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, I… well, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You queer or something?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy gulps noticeably hard. How the fuck did this conversation suddenly take a hard left turn. He’s done for. There’s no coming back from this. He knows his face just gave it away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh, no. I, uh...I just--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck, man. Who gives a shit. You queer or not? I don’t fucking care.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Is this a trap? I mean, #6 is a football player. This type of trickery is right up their alley. Monday at school, it might all be over for him. He’s going to be moving away like Touchdown Tara.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, well, you see, my date at the dance, um… you see, she--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>#6 noticed the bulge in Tommy’s polyester pants 5 minutes ago. He knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s OK. You’re spazzing,” #6 says as he pats his pockets down, slipping his hand into a deep pocket. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls out a rolled joint, holds it up, and raises his eyebrows, as if to ask if he’s in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy’s relieved by the distraction. He licks his lips. He’s only done this once. He wound up waking up shirtless in his friend’s little sister’s sandbox with a garden hose stuck down his damp jeans; one sneaker on his foot, the other tied snuggly around his hand. No one at the gathering had an explanation for how he ended up like that. A picture exists somewhere, documenting this event. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You game?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy just nods. He does not want to go back to that conversation they were just having.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>#6 lights the blunt, takes a hit, and hands it off to Tommy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, what’s your name?” the drummer asks, before taking a hit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>----------------------------</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I envisioned what the boys would be wearing in this chapter, I just wrote what came to mind based on what I know about the era. I think I had that young Nikki blue suit picture in mind, although that color scheme went to Tommy.</p>
<p>For Nikki, ha. I just wrote what came to mind. But in the next chapter, there's a mention of John Travolta. Saturday Night Fever was released in 1977, and the BeeGees were burning up the charts. It's inevitable that some disco music was played at school dances during this time. And some of the men's fashions, like open shirts with butterfly collars were a trend across the board. As was massive amounts of chest hair peek-a-booing out the top of the shirt, like a hermit crab. </p>
<p>Anyway, I brought up Nikki's lack of body hair in the next chapter. You'll see. But as a comparison, I viewed a clip from Saturday Night Fever. I was laughing when I realized that I pretty much described Nikki's attire just like what Travolta was wearing in the opening scene of the movie, with a different color shirt. Maybe I had memories of the movie in my sub conscious. Been a long time since I've seen it.</p>
<p>It's a dirty little gem. A culturally revelent movie for the decade. If you've seen The Dirt, you can handle Saturday Night. Although, I think the language is way worse than The Dirt. The acting leaves a lot to be desired. Anyway, here's a short video of the opening scene and a solo dance by Travolta. He killed it.</p>
<p>https://youtu.be/u1qN6gLbUMw</p>
<p>Girls were most often dressed in floor length, prairie style dresses. Many were off the shoulder.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Run For Your Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Really... can this day in the life of a teenager get any worse for Tommy?</p>
<p>----------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cathy couldn’t keep her hands off of Nikki since the moment they got out of the car at the dance. Cindy was too preoccupied with herself, and her crooked crown to take notice. </p>
<p>Upon walking into the gymnasium, Nikki felt all eyes on him, taking notice of some giggles from some girls. It was most likely his clashing clothes, against Cindy’s glowing white dress. He didn’t want to be there from the moment he walked in. Cheesy hand holding, pop and disco music, ice sculptures and balloons. It all sucked.</p>
<p>At the half hour mark, the first slow song played. “How Deep is Your Love” by the BeeGees. This was not Nikki’s beat. Cindy wrapped her arms around Nikki tightly, while he attempted to lift her floor-length dress up, to see <em>how deep</em> he could get his fingers inside her pretty hole. She spent half the time squirming with disdain and half the time trying to position herself for a satisfying stimulation to her clit. </p>
<p>Nikki was enjoying the challenge until her crown went astray, bouncing onto the floor, in danger of being crushed. Cindy pulled herself away fast to rescue the precious commodity, then immediately started blaming Nikki for the near untimely demise of her crown, as she stormed off for the bathroom to put it back in place.</p>
<p>Nikki can’t be bothered with his up and down moody shit. While he stood there watching his girlfriend storm off, a curious Cathy sidled up next to him in the dark. A few minutes later, they were in the faculty bathroom fucking hard and heavy.</p>
<p>“Oh god Nikki! Fuck me!”</p>
<p>“Hrmfmhmmgm,” Nikki responds, as his mouth is sucking on her tits, nearly as succulent as her sister’s.</p>
<p>“Just fuck me. I need your dick inside of me,” Cathy pants, fully naked, sitting legs spread wide on the sink vanity.</p>
<p>Nikki shimmies his pants down, as Cathy claws at his shirt, frantically trying to open it up more. He thrusts full force into her open hole, as she wraps her arms around him. She’s loud. He’s loud, which has a small crowd around the bathroom door.</p>
<p>15 minutes later, both are dressed, and mostly put back together. They open the door, and are met with 4 sets of eyes, 3 girls and 1 boy. No one says anything, and Nikki simply steps around them with a smug look on his face.</p>
<p>“Is that the one dating Cindy Everett?” One girl whispers.</p>
<p>“Isn’t that Cindy’s sister? Another asks.</p>
<p>“Oh shit,” the boy gasps.</p>
<p>“Lucky girl,” the 3rd girl says.</p>
<p>Nikki hears it, and knows he has to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.</p>
<p>Nikki and Cathy enter the gym, parting ways. Nikki lurks around the dark perimeter, eyeballing the side door. As he approaches, he sees that drummer, Tommy Bass, not too far away, looking lonely at the punch bowl. He makes a quick decision to approach him before jumping ship for the night. He figures he’s got about a minute before he’s charged after by an angry mob of meatheads and screeching girls.</p>
<p>----------------------------</p>
<p><b>Later</b> - </p>
<p>Nikki holds the joint out to Tommy. In his mind, it’s somewhat of a peace offering. He knows he just put him on the spot regarding his sexual preference. Nikki is aware that he can be a dick. He really doesn’t care if he hurts people’s feelings. But, that wasn’t the case here. He’s completely serious about this band endeavor. He’s not about to scare the kid off before they even have a chance to try to start building this dream.</p>
<p>The only reason he pressed the issue was because the pressurized bulge in the drummer’s pants was close to the point of causing a tear in the fly zone of his nut-hugging pants, and then where would he be. That was simply gravy for Nikki; a bonus so speak for finding a potential drummer. Only Tommy doesn’t know that yet. He will at some point.</p>
<p>Tommy seems hesitant, but sits there licking his lips. Nikki decides he’s game. </p>
<p>“Hey, what’s your name?” Tommy asks, as he takes hold of the joint.</p>
<p>“It’s Nikki.”</p>
<p>“As in Nicholas?”</p>
<p>“As in Nikki.”</p>
<p>“OK then, Nikki,” Tommy says, as he takes his drag.</p>
<p>After the two initial drags, Tommy suggests they move to the rear of the van to stay out of view.</p>
<p>“No problem,” Nikki readily complies.</p>
<p>The pair burn it down, and add a flask of rum to the mix. Both boys get home very late that night.</p>
<p>--------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh Nikki! Yes! Yes! Oh god, Nikki…. Ohhhh…”</p>
<p>Voula hears it as she presses her ear to her son’s door.</p>
<p>“Yes! Right there, Nikki!”</p>
<p>She knocks on the door, “Tommy?” She twists the handle.</p>
<p>There’s a sudden sound of rustling and something crashing to the floor, as Voula dares to peek in.</p>
<p>“Mom!!” Tommy shrieks, glistening with sweat, his bed covers pulled up around him.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Tommy,” she says, getting an eyeful of her wild-eyed son, hair unkempt, shirtless, and the bedside lamp on the floor, along with his clothes from last night. “I just thought that maybe….. well, nevermind. Oh, your sister has her debut in the teen choir this morning at mass. I thought we could all go together.”</p>
<p>“Um, yeah… um, that’s a no for me, Mom. Uh, can you…. Can you like…. Can you shut the door now.”</p>
<p>“OK, well, if you change your mind. We’re leaving in 20 minutes. Church might do you well today,” she smiles awkwardly, shutting the door quietly.</p>
<p>Tommy is mortified, and confused. He doesn’t remember coming home. He’s not sure how he ended up here. And even more distressing is that his mom just caught him in the midst of having a wet dream. Was it a dream? He looks under his covers to make sure. It was a dream. He’s alone. What the fuck happened last night? The last thing he clearly remembers is sharing a joint with the new kid, Nikki, in the back of his van. Tommy lays back down on his bed, and pulls the covers over his head. Thankfully his boner was killed off by his mother’s presence. Tommy just stays there for a good long time.</p>
<p>--------------------------</p>
<p>
  <b>Two and a half hours later - </b>
</p>
<p>Tommy is up, and dressed. He’s been trying to piece together the events from last night. There was Melissa and the dirty dancing. There was the punch bowl, and then following Nikki out. They drove away, and parked. They talked about drumming and starting a band. Nikki said that he plays bass even though he doesn’t have one. Oh fuck, that’s right, he was questioned about his sexuality, and then he was presented with a joint. Maybe a little bit or a lotta bit of rum too. Then what?</p>
<p>Tommy rubs his temples trying to remember. There was a button missing on Nikki’s shirt. He remembers pointing that out. Nikki has no hair on his chest. How does he know that? Was it Faberge Brut or just VO5 hairspray that remembers smelling? He needs to know. Not out of concern of being violated or used; but out of pure unadulterated desire, as this morning’s wet dream consisted of sex with the new kid. He’s already inspected his areas below the belt and finds no evidence of sexual activity. Fuck! What the hell happened?</p>
<p>He’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock on his bedroom door. It creaks open.</p>
<p>“Hi-ya, son,” his dad says, strutting in, pulling a chair out.</p>
<p>Oh god, Tommy thinks to himself. No, no, no, no. Not the talk. Please, not the talk. Tommy wants to die hard and fast, right now.</p>
<p>“Well your mother shared with me a little something that she overheard this morning. Do you want to tell me about it?”</p>
<p>“No, dad. I don’t. Not at all.”</p>
<p>“You can talk to me, son. I was once there myself. I know all about wet dreams. And I have some important advice to share with you. </p>
<p>Tommy buries his face in his hands. Please, Zeus almighty, just strike me dead with one of those fucking lightening bolt things right now. Like RIGHT NOW. My dad just actually said the words <em>wet dreams</em>. This cannot actually be unfolding.</p>
<p>“Mom, thought that maybe you brought a girl home last night, champ,” Tommy’s dad says, smiling as he shakes his head, chucking Tommy’s chin. “Well, who could blame you. We got ourselves a fine looking boy, here.”</p>
<p>“Dad, I--”</p>
<p>“Whoa, hold on there, sport. I’m not upset. See, Athena told me about her friend.”</p>
<p>“Wait! What! Athena! What does the entire family know!”</p>
<p>“No, no. Mom simply asked her if she knew any girls in school named Nicky. And Athena said, yes. She has a classmate named Nicky. They were hanging out last night at the dance, and well, your sister caught you taking glances at her.”</p>
<p>“What! Oh god, no. Dad, I wasn’t looking at Athena’s friend.”</p>
<p>“It’s OK, son. I know you’re probably concerned because she’s still at such a tender age, but as I said. I was once in your shoes.”</p>
<p>“Dad. I’m not looking at 14 year olds!”</p>
<p>“Don’t be embarrassed, Tom. Your mother is much younger than me. You know, most of these girls are the inexperienced types, like your sister.”</p>
<p>“Dad, please. I don’t want to hear about my sister. I don’t want to hear about any of this.”</p>
<p>“Son, this is important, and will keep you out of trouble. And there’s nothing to worry about with Athena. We’ve raised her right. But it’s her friends that we need to take into consideration. You never know which young ladies come from broken homes, and are desperate for attention from handsome, young boys like you. So the first thing that you ought to know, is that the girl needs to consent. Never force the issue, son. No matter how blue your balls get.</p>
<p>Tommy is in a near catatonic state. This is a dream. <em>My dad did not just mention blue balls.</em></p>
<p>“But, if you think you got one who’s ready, the second thing to remember is to always have a rubber on you. Keep one in your wallet, or tuck one in your tube sock. It keeps the crabs away and the more serious venereal diseases, like herpes and gonorrhea. Yeah, there’s pills available, but no man wants to live his life with warts on his penis. Plus, more importantly that rubber will keep you from becoming a daddy at 16.”</p>
<p>“Dad, I know this stuff! We learn it in school.”</p>
<p>“Sure you do, champ. But you need to hear from a veteren in the department of boyhood. Been there myself. Your textbook sure hasn’t. Anyway, next thing with these virgin types. There’s this internal shield inside a vagina called the hymen. An erect penis is strong enough to bust through the hymen. Now, you may not feel it, but your will most certainly see the effects of a busted hymen. It can produce blood, like a female’s menstrual cycle. Don’t let it freak you out, sport. It’s normal. Your mother’s hymen busted before I even got to her because of a rigorous swimming routine. So that was--”</p>
<p>“Dad! I’m not a virgin! OK! God, please don’t talk about my mother’s hymen ever again. Listen, I’m supposed to meet my friends at the mall now,” Tommy says, trying to slip his shoes on as quickly as possible.</p>
<p>“We don’t have to use the word hymen. Have you heard the term <em>cherry</em>, son?”</p>
<p>“Dad. I gotta go. I’m late,” Tommy said, running out of his room.</p>
<p>“Well, nice talk, Tom. We’ll see you at the dinner table!” Mr. Bass hollers, as Tommy wizzes away.</p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p>Tommy dashes out of the house, grabbing the spare keys to his van; not being in the frame of mind to stick around looking for his main keys, not realizing they were left on Tommy’s bedside table. He jumps in, peels out of the driveway like hell, and races down the road to destination ‘anywhere-but-home.’</p>
<p>A few miles away, Tommy pulls his van into a strip mall parking lot. He’s reeling from the talk with his dad. He thinks this may just be the most humiliating and disturbing event of his life. He thinks that he could have gone through his entire life without ever thinking about his mother’s hymen; taking a moment to thinking that his dad is naive to believe that his mom was a virgin when they met. He shivers with chills, at just the thought of it. As he sits in the parking lot, trying to gain composure, he sees a pay phone. Time to make a few phone calls.</p>
<p>He tries one friend. There’s no answer. He tries his friend Vince next. He’s called to the phone by his mother.</p>
<p>“What’s up T-Bone? You get laid last night?”</p>
<p>“Uh, no. Um, look, was anyone looking for me last night?”</p>
<p>“I dunno. Uh, maybe. There was some sort of clusterfuck going on regarding some football kid who was banging Cindy’s sister in the bathroom.”</p>
<p>“Oh shit. What happened with that?”</p>
<p>“I don’t fucking know, but it gave me the opportunity to console and comfort Cindy and to keep her tits and pussy company. Tom, man… how’d you ever let that slip through your hands? She’s Grade A Prime.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Vin. Just, she wasn’t my type.”</p>
<p>“You queer, man? She’s everybody’s fucking type.”</p>
<p>“Dude, forget that. Um, did you hear anything else about that football player?”</p>
<p>“Nah, I tune that shit out. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets his ass kicked tomorrow though. Cindy was pretty upset. I mean her boyfriend fucked her sister. But, I think I made her feel better by the end of the night. She doesn’t need a loser like that, when she can have me.”</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><div>
  <p>“What about Melissa?”</p>
  <p>“Who’s that?” Vince asks.</p>
  <p>“My date.”</p>
  <p>“Well, I didn’t fuck her if that’s what you’re implying. Well, wait….what color dress was she wearing?”</p>
  <p>“Nevermind. I had to leave early. I just wanted to make sure she got home alright.”</p>
  <p>“How the fuck should I know?”</p>
  <p>‘<em>Please deposit 10 cents’</em></p>
  <p>“Fuck, the call is going to end… and I don’t know, Vin. I just wanted to see if you heard anything about me, so I know what to expect in school tomorrow.”</p>
  <p>“Nothing man. Heard nothing.”</p>
  <p>“Alright, cool. See you tomorrow.”</p>
  <p>Tommy hangs up, beating the automatic disconnection.</p>
  <p>None of his deep questions about last night have been answered. Not that he would have expected Vince to know any of that, but at least it seems that no one is aware that Tommy slipped out with Nikki. He’s relieved about that. He suddenly feels really badly, and uses his last two dimes to call Melissa.</p>
  <p>“Hey Melissa.”</p>
  <p>“Tommmeeee! What happened! You left me stranded!”</p>
  <p>“I know. I’m so sorry. Um, an emergency came up.”</p>
  <p>“What do you mean? Is everything OK? I saw your sister was still there until the end.”</p>
  <p>“Oh, not a family emergency. Um, me. See I think I might be allergic to strawberry seeds or something. You know, I had a lot of punch. I felt myself getting itchy and my vision blurry. Oh, and a headache. I had to leave before I got really sick, but I didn’t see you. I think you were in the bathroom, so I couldn’t tell you that I had to go.”</p>
  <p>Tommy grits his teeth and crosses his fingers hoping that Melissa buys that line of pure bullshit.</p>
  <p>“Oh. Hmm… well, are you feeling better?”</p>
  <p>“Oh yeah, much.”</p>
  <p>Tommy hears her sigh. “It was still really embarrassing for me that you left. I had to get a ride home from Michelle’s parents.”</p>
  <p>“I know. I feel so badly. I’m really sorry, Melissa.”</p>
  <p>“You know, I was also disappointed because I thought that maybe we were going to leave early together.”</p>
  <p>“Yeah, um. Sorry I couldn’t make that happen.”</p>
  <p>“I even had fancy lingerie on. Just for you,” she whispers into the receiver.</p>
  <p>‘<em>Please deposit 10 cents.’</em></p>
  <p>“Fuck, the call is going to end. I have no more coins.”</p>
  <p>“Tommy, are you on a payphone? Where are you?”</p>
  <p>“I’m just out.”</p>
  <p>“Well, maybe you can stop by and we can--”</p>
  <p>
    <em>BZZZZZZZZZZZ</em>
  </p>
  <p>Thank god the operator cut the call off. Tommy breathes a sigh of relief as he hangs the receiver up. He dodged that bullet.</p>
  <p>Tommy drove around for a little while, not wanting to go home. He stopped at the record store and bought the newly released UFO album. He figures that he’ll have an excuse to hide out in his room for the rest of the night, to listen to the songs. As he drives towards home, finally. He thinks a lot about Nikki, wishing that he could track him down. He doesn’t even know his last name.</p>
  <p>-------------------------</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Danger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's dinner time. Both Tommy and Nikki are wishing for fast food. Someone help these two.</p><p>-------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Back to the scene in the Tommy’s van -  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, are you OK?” Nikki asks, shaking his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Who me??” Tommy says, picking his head up.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you look totally burned, man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Naaaw,” Tommy says, throwing his hand out in protest. “I’m like this all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Somehow, I don’t believe that,” Nikki smirks, shaking his head. “How often do you smoke?”</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno. I’ll pinch a few sticks from my dad when he’s not looking sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Grass, man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…. uh, well…. Um, once,” Tommy says, holding one finger up.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit. Sorry, dude. I just assumed all the long-hairs do.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <b>p-pissed </b>in the sandbox…. Like a cat,” Tommy says, spitting as he says pissed.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Uh, what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dude, I’m a little worried about you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry. I can still get it up,” Tommy laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s OK. No need for that tonight. Maybe I should get you home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh… well every time I’m in the back of my van, I’m challenged to get it up,” Tommy says, with concentration on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki gets closer to Tommy’s face. “Tommy, where do you live?”</p><p> </p><p>“My mom used to write our address on the elastic band of my underwear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dude, I doubt she still does that. What’s your address?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh? Get undressed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your street address, Tommy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Heh heh. Easy Street. Like me.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki is humored by Tommy’s aloof behavior, but he needs some answers. He reaches to pull Tommy’s wallet out to find his license to get the address.</p><p> </p><p>“Woooo! You trying to get me excited, Nikki,” Tommy playfully battles, as Nikki is reaching into his back pocket.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki gets the wallet, and finds the address. He’s not even sure where it is; just a general idea that it’s west of here. He’ll probably need to stop and ask when they get closer.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Tommy? Why don’t you lean back on the mattress, and just relax.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, are you going to lay down with me?’</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m just your chauffeur tonight,” Nikki smiles, leaping in the driver’s seat. </p><p> </p><p>The van is started up, and they’re on their way. Nikki is having conflicting feelings about Tommy. For one, he’s concerned about the effects of the weed and rum. And two, he definitely wasn’t opposed to getting into Tommy’s pants. He was actually hoping that the narcotics would loosen the drummer up enough to maybe be more open to messing around a little. It was a real risk. Nikki figures that probably 98% of the guys he runs into wouldn’t even consider a little same-sex fun; although he suspects that the percentage of guys who are actually curious, but won’t ever admit it or try it, is actually pretty high. So, yeah, Tommy was a risk, but Nikki knows how to be charming and manipulative.</p><p> </p><p>However, the weed and liquor wound up knocking this kid off of his rocker; enough that Nikki didn’t even have to pull from his bag of tricks, the kid was coming on to him with no prodding. But he can’t go there. There’s just something about him, a naivete that he can’t corrupted. Besides, they have a band to think about. This will just be a roll-with-it type relationship. Best not to fuck it to hell tonight.</p><p> </p><p>After a quick pitstop to ask for directions, Nikki is pulling Tommy’s van into the driveway. He pulls the keys from the ignition, gets out of the driver’s door, and opens the back slider door.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy?” Nikki says, patting the kid’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Nikki,” Tommy says, smiling into the air.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re home. You should go in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck… I’m home? When?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just now. Come on,” Nikki says, trying to wrestle Tommy to a sitting position. “This is your house, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy is sloppy and off-kilter, nearly falling to his knees once Nikki helped pull him out of the van. </p><p> </p><p>“Whoopsie!!” Tommy slurs, trying to get back up. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck. I’m going to have to help you in. Is this the right house? You don’t have a watchdog or nuthin’, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ya gonna stay at my house, Nikkieeee? You can be my watchdog. Bow wow wow,” Tommy playfully asks, while groping at Nikki’s shirt, shoulders, and arms to hold himself up.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m going home,” Nikki replies trying to take charge. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you like John Travolta? Your shirt’s like all open and sexy like Tony Manero,” the drummer says, jabbing his finger into Nikki’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“No, and I don’t do disco. That girl I fucked tonight popped a button off my shirt.”</p><p> </p><p>“My mom can sew it on for you, and now I know that you’re not John Travolta because you have no chest hair. None!”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. OK? Shhhh. I’m opening your front door. Quiet,” Nikki whispers, as he unlocks the front door with Tommy’s keys.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom. I’m ho--” Tommy starts, calling out, until Nikki slaps his hand over his mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck up. It’s almost 2 in the morning. I don’t need your parents calling the 5-0 on me. Where’s your fucking bedroom?” Nikki growls in a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>He manages to get Tommy upstairs up to his bedroom without much more struggle, other than an occasional stumble and giggle from Tommy. </p><p> </p><p>Nikki nearly pushes him into his bed. “Go to sleep, now. Talk to you soon, OK?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nite nite, Nikki,” Tommy says, giving him a playful send off, as he lies half on and half off his bed.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki leaves the keys on the nightstand, and closes the bedroom door, creeps back downstairs, and slips out the front door. He has no choice but to start walking towards home. It’s about a 15-20 minute drive, so it’s gonna take him a few hours to walk, unless he hitches a ride.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Nikki comes to, on his bed around 3pm. His head hurts. He doesn’t want to get up and face the mirror. If he doesn’t, it didn’t happen. He stretches long, and then curls back into a ball, and closes his eyes again. That’s what feels good right now.</p><p> </p><p>About 20 minutes later, there’s a loud rapping on his bedroom door, followed by yelling.</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki, get up. I need you to run down to the corner market for me. Nikki?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off!!” Nikki yells back, throwing his pillow over his head.</p><p> </p><p>Deana gives up. His door is locked. She walks away.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki does finally decide to get up though. He needs to get out. He turns on his radio, as he rummages around his room for clean clothes. He avoids the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>Finally dressed in his multi shades of black, he opens his bedroom door, and goes into his bathroom. His hair needs attention, and he knows it. He has to face the mirror. The horror of it all never stops shocking him. He lies to himself, and says… <em> this one’s not bad. </em>But it is. It’s hideous. It looks horrible on him. He moistens a washcloth and dabs his fresh wound, or as he likes to call them, marks of the beast, to wipe away the dried blood.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> …..Nikki slowly opened the front door to his house around 3:45am. He walked more than half way home from Tommy’s house, then was offered a ride by a stranger. He shut the door gently, pulled his boots off, and turned to go upstairs to his room; until he heard… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re a whore.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Damn, she’s up. Nikki turns around to face his mom who was sitting in a recliner in the dark living room. The light from a streetlamp streams in the front window just enough for him to see that he mom is holding a highball glass in her hand with who knows what in it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” Nikki replies. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Always “Always lousing things up like the dirty whore you are.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nikki doesn’t respond and takes a step towards the stairs. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “That poor little girl called here, crying, asking if you were home. She told me what you did. Bet you were out all night fucking tramps to satisfy your whorish desires. Just like your father used to.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “It’s not your business, mother. And that girl is not the innocent little maiden that you think she is.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> <strong>CRACK</strong>! </em> <em> The highball glass smashes on Nikki’s temple. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Get out of my sight you little whore.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nikki doesn’t say anything more and just hurries himself up the steps, slamming his bedroom door, and locking it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He throws his jacket off, crawls onto his bed, and tries to choke tears back. He’ll never stop being shocked. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Nikki finishes with his time in the mirror. He just needs to go somewhere. He comes downstairs to slip his boots on, and twists the door handle to leave.</p><p> </p><p>“Where you going, Nikki?” Deana asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Out.”</p><p> </p><p>“I need my Parliaments and a pound of chopped meat from the market for dinner. The money is on the table,” Deana says, sitting in the chair filing her nails. A smile comes across her face, although she doesn’t look up. “Maybe you can bring home a pint of rocky road ice cream too. I know it’s your favorite. ”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki always gives in. He can’t explain why. Maybe it’s just for the hope that one day she’ll stop drinking and abusing him, or allowing her boyfriends to do the dirty work. There always has to be a day one for change. Maybe today is her day one. He turns back towards the kitchen and grabs the money off of the table, avoiding eye contact as he passes by. She avoids it as well.</p><p> </p><p>A half hour later he returns. He decides not to go out, and instead retreats back to his bedroom. He feels numb, and is not in the mood to be anything but numb for the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner will be ready around 6,” Deana says, calling up the stairs as Nikki shuts his bedroom door.</p><p> </p><p>He turns the radio back on and takes a notebook out. Seems like a good time for song writing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nobody knows what it’s like to be lonely.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What it’s like to be lonely </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What it’s like to be alone </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Turn and face the pain. Turn and face the youth of today. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Turn and face the strange. Turn and face the music if you dare. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ve got the power. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it still hurts when you’re all alone… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>--------------------</p><p> </p><p>Nikki and his mother finish up their lonely, and mostly silent dinner. Deana tried to make small talk. Nikki managed to respond with only nods and replies of few words.</p><p> </p><p>“Here’s your ice cream. Do you want chocolate syrup?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my favorite. Nona made her own homemade chocolate syrup. It was thick. More like hot fudge,” she says, drizzling on the canned Hershey's syrup.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki digs at his ice cream.</p><p> </p><p>“It used to dribble down my chin,” Deana says, trying to sport a warm smile.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki simply nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Then she’d get a damp cloth and clean my face before it dried up. Has Nona ever made her syrup for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe…. Thanks mom. I’m done. I have to make a phone call, and I might go out for a little while.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, well, don’t forget that you have school tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Nikki says, pushing his chair in and bringing the dish and spoon to the sink.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll wash the dishes tonight,” Deana says, before Nikki disappears around the corner.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki blinks trying to fight tears. That’s his Nona; always taking care of people. He misses her, and hasn’t even seen her since he and his mom moved to California. Nona wiped his mother’s face clean of chocolate. Yet Nikki had to wipe his own face clean of dried blood. Nona would have taken care of him if he was with her. He’s on his own here.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki feels depression creeping in which is never a good thing. He decides to distract himself to check up on Tommy; hoping all is well for him on the homefront. He feels badly that he got him so fucked up last night. He flips through the phone book, and finds his number. Nikki jots it down, and goes upstairs to the hallway phone.</p><p> </p><p>-----------------------</p><p> </p><p>Tommy arrives back from the record shop, and hopes to slip in undetected to go straight to his room to listen to his album.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. I’m so glad that you’re back. Dinner will be at 6. It’s your favorite,” Voula chirps.</p><p> </p><p>“OK, I guess. Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“There will be a guest tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“OK,” Tommy nods. It doesn’t affect him.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Nicky,” Athena adds in with a sneering voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Who? What?” Tommy says, his heart pounding, as he think only about Nikki #6.</p><p> </p><p>“Nicky Johannsen, sweetheart. Dad told me that you two had a chance to talk, and well we thought that it might be nice to have her over,” Voula says, with a bright smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom. There’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t even know who she is!”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to be shy, Tommy. It will be fun.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy and Nicky sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G</p><p>First comes love, then come marriage, then comes Tommy in a baby carriage,” Athena whines out.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom! Tell her to shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sucking his thumb, peeing his pants, doing the hula hula dance,” his sister continues on.</p><p> </p><p>“Athena! I swear to god. I going to--”</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas! We don’t swear to god in the house!” Voula snaps.</p><p> </p><p>“Just shut your face up, fart tart,” Tommy growls towards Athena.</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas!”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you yelling at me for!? She’s the one being annoying! And I don’t like little 14 year old girls!”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s all nervous, mom. Nicky is so excited,” Athena blares. “I told her that your favorite color is blue.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even have a favorite color!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, and your father is bringing home a fresh cherry pie for dessert just for you,” Voula beams.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god! Everyone in this house is trippin!” Tommy screeches, storming off towards his room.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy is not sure what kind of fresh hell he is in right now. He slips his shoes off, and whips them at his wall in frustration. “Fuck!”</p><p> </p><p>He takes a few deep breaths, unwraps the UFO record, and puts his headphones on to block out all of the bullshit going on around him, wishing that an actual UFO will fly overhead and beam him up.</p><p> </p><p>-----------------------</p><p> </p><p>Tommy is called down for dinner. He makes no extra effort to check his look. He’s not even going to entertain the notion of this ridiculous “crush” on Nicky.</p><p> </p><p>He hesitantly makes his way downstairs, and sees a spindly, braces-clad brunette girl with straight-cut bangs staring at him, dressed in head to toe blue….everything is blue; even the eyeshadow. She breaks into a smile, and puts her fingers up to her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“This is Nicky,” Athena says, shoving her from right in front of him. “But, I know that you already know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy sports a mock smile, “Hi. Nice to meet you.” Then he watches her eyes rove downward towards his groin. </p><p> </p><p><em> Seriously!? </em>This girl looks like she just went through puberty an hour ago.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me. I need to wash my hands,” Tommy says, stepping by.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god. Your brother is so cute close up,” Nicky says in a loud whisper to Athena.</p><p> </p><p>“I think he likes you. I mean he was talking about you this morning. But he’ll play dumb. Watch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, like is he shy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not usually. But he is dumb. And he’s just been acting weird lately. Brothers are stupid like that,” Athena says, shaking her head with an eye roll, like she’s Sigmund Freud delving into the psyche of teenage boys.</p><p> </p><p>“OK!! Everyone to the table. Sunday dinner is served,” Tommy’s mom announces.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy guns for a single chair on the right side of the table. “Sweetheart, you seat is right here,” Voula motions with her hand to the left side of the table with two seats, side by side.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy sits down, as his dad enters the room. “Evening, everyone. You must be Nicky, young lady. I’m Mr. Bass.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the girl smiles, shrinking back.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you have a nice time at the dance last night?” Voula asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy rolls his eyes. No girls he ever dates would use the word indeed like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had a baby pink dress.<em> And </em> high heels. I really wanted a blue one, but the dress shop was sold out. The color blue brings out my eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy notices that she has brown eyes, and no color enhances brown eyes. What a crock of shit.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shovels his food in more quickly than normal, hoping to leave the table soon. The girl has been putting her hand on his thigh repeatedly, and has been moving it closer to his package. He’s been trying to subtly scoot over, away from her, but somehow her hands keep making a come back.</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner was good, mom. I think that I have some homework to finish before tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not so soon, son! I brought home a succulent cherry pie for dessert! Whipped cream on top!” Tommy’s dad blurts out, licking his lips like a donkey.</p><p> </p><p>‘“Umm.. haha, cherry pie,” Tommy reiterates nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“Cherry pie, Tom,” his dad says, winking.</p><p> </p><p>Oh no, he did not. Oh god….</p><p> </p><p>Just then, the best sound Tommy has ever heard. The phone is ringing.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get it!!!” Tommy shrieks, jumping out of his seat, so quickly, it bashes into the chair rail on the wall, and he’s off running for it before anyone can even protest.</p><p> </p><p>He picks up the receiver, happy for it to be anyone; the IRS, the school principal, Elvis’s ghost. Anyone other than the 4 people sitting at his dinner table. “Hello?” he answers, out of breath, after racing to the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this Tommy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, who’s this?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Nikki.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god! Nikki!,” he blabs. “Nikki,” he repeats much more quietly, as he hears giggling in the other room. They must have heard him say the name. “Fuck. What are you doing right now," Tommy says, quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“I just wanted to see how you were doing. And why are you whispering? Is everything OK?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m in hell right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh jeez. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no… nothing to do with you. Are you free right now? Can I pick you up? I have have to get out of my fucking house, and fast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I’m game,” Nikki says, slightly concerned about what’s got Tommy so frantic.</p><p> </p><p>He gives Tommy his address, and tells him that he’ll be waiting on his front porch.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy hangs up.</p><p> </p><p>He charges back through the dining room, and announces that he’s going out.</p><p> </p><p>“But we haven’t had dessert, Tom,” dad protests.</p><p> </p><p>“Me and Nicky were going to play Yahtzee with you,” Athena whines. “I found the missing die.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dear, I thought you just said that you had homework? Remember, it’s a school night,” Voula asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I finished it, and I know. Save me a piece of pie.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, how’d it get done since you were sitting here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Later!!” Tommy dashes to the door, grabs his Converse sneakers to put on later, and runs out of the house in his socks.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------------</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Red Hot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>His thumb would stroke the rounded edge of his mattress, imagining that it was Nikki’s jawline that was being rolfed; ultimately triggering a filling of the front of his briefs </p>
<p>‐----------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nikki paces back and forth on his front porch, finally seeing Tommy’s light blue van pull up in front. Seems to him that he got here rather quickly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki opens the passenger door, and hops in, shutting it. “Is everything OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s fine. I just needed to get out of the house. Sorry if it sounded like I was spazzing,” Tommy replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it have anything to do with last night?” Nikki asks. “Were you OK this morning?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy blushes. Thankfully it’s dark out, and not noticeable. He was OK this morning, more than OK, until his mom opened the bedroom door. Then he wasn’t OK, and far from it. “Dude, it’s all good. It’s just my family. I swear, they’re all bonafide nutcases.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, OK. I hope it works out for you,” Nikki says, unsure how to respond. “Do you even remember going home last night? Oh, and can we drive somewhere? I want to get out of here too. Where’d you want to go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have anywhere in mind. Wanna go up in the hills somewhere. Just to chill?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a little far? School tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. Like a half hour. And I got like 2 hours before I should be home,” Tommy says, being more familiar with the area, than Nikki is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and to answer your question. No, I don’t remember how I got home. Did you get me home?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. You were fucked. I got your address off your license, and drove you home.” Nikki decides to leave out the part about bringing him inside; and actually all the parts about Tommy’s suggestive behavior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you get home then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I walked, and then hitched a ride.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck. Sorry, man. You’re not even in West Covina.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, on the border of Covina and Glendora. Besides, I would have been walking home from the school anyway, or from wherever I decided to jet to after splitting from the dance. I’m the one who decided to take the ride from you. I had to scram.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I figured you lived closer since you go to Royal Oak.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heh, I got kicked out of my first school. That’s why I’m at Royal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. What’d you do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A teacher was riding me. Purposely making me look like a fool in front of everyone. I lost my cool, and threatened him. I got expelled immediately.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dang. I’ve had those moments. But I guess I just bite my tongue, though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all good. I like Royal Oak more.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like you’re doing good, right? Football team, girlfriend, and shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To tell you the truth, I don’t care about any of that shit. I’m on the team, not because I’m a jock, but as an outlet for my anger issues. And the girls? Whatever. They’re just a good fuck to me. I’m serious when I told you that I wanted to start a band. That’s what makes my soul tick.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m with you there. I just bought a new album today, as a matter of fact.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Who?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“UFO. The new one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck man!” Nikki’s mood lights up. “How is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fucking awesome. You should come over some day and listen to it with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? I mean, I love that band. And probably at least a 100 more. It’s just my escape.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sees Nikki becoming animated like he hasn’t seen before. He and Nikki discuss more about the bands that they like on the way up to the Hollywood Hills.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy parks at the top of the hill, in a dirt lot. “Ever been up here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Haven’t had a chance yet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s cool. It’s great at night. Come here,” Tommy says, as he gets out of the van and starts walking towards the lookout point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki follows. “Wow. It’s so lit up down there. It’s like a different world.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, our neighborhoods are in that direction,” Tommy says, pointing yonder. “If you listen carefully, you might be able to hear my sister still flapping her jaws. She never fucking stops.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you have a sister? Any others?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, let’s sit on those rocks there. It gets crowded and touristy up here sometimes, but I guess on a Sunday night, it’s not so bad. And yeah, just one sister. About 2 years younger. She’s a freshman. You?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a little sister but she’s currently with my grandparents in Idaho until my mom gets settled here. Sometimes I wish I was still there too, but I wouldn’t be starting no rock band if I was.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mentioned your mom. You have a dad?” Tommy asks with trepidation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. Somewhere. I don’t know him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry, man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’m probably better off,” Nikki shrugs, pulling out a cigarette to light.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The flame of the light illuminates Nikki’s face for a brief 2 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a face that commands attention. Tommy noticed every sharp angle that the flame illuminated, and something else. “What happened to your head?” he asks, taking notice of a bloody contusion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh that?” Nikki smiles, pointing to the wound.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heh. I deserved it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’d you get decked by someone? Like fallout from last night’s fuck?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty much. I had a minor run-in with Cathy’s boyfriend,” Nikki lies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mick?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Mick. And how do you know him, or even Cathy for that matter?” Nikki squirms with an elevated heart rate, wondering if he’s been caught in the lie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. Well, I knew this was coming to come up at some point. Um, well, see I dated Cindy for like 10 days. I met her sister and her boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re shitting me? You dated Cindy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, is that so hard to believe?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that… well, how long ago?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, pretty much she dumped me for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s fine. I wasn’t that into her. She was annoying. Was she bad mouthing me? That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you know she’s bad mouthing me now too. So, does it matter?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess not,” Tommy shrugs. “So, Mick hit you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He was pissed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? I mean, like he’s one of the most laid back guys I’ve ever met. Doesn’t give a shit about anything except getting laid and playing his guitar.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kinda sounds like me. Does he play in a band? I assume he’s older than us?” Nikki asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, some Top 40 band. The band sucks. But he’s pretty fucking good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. Maybe I need to check him out. Is he happy in that band?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, you want the guy who just hit you, in your band?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. I have to confess. I made that shit up. I never even met him. I just…. ahh fuck.. you caught me. I slipped on gravel and stumbled getting into the truck of the person who gave me a ride last night. Hit my fucking head on the edge of the door frame. It was humiliating. Saying I got into a fight sounded way cooler.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha. I would have paid to see that. Must have looked like a dumbass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t remind me. I’m supposed to personify coolness,” Nikki laughs, as he swallows hard, yanking on the lapels of his cool leather jacket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is none the wiser. Not suspicious of Nikki’s story at all. Growing up in a nuclear family in the suburbs, leave him naive and ignorant to the realities of domestic and child abuse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a fair warning though. You may escape wrath from Mick, but watch your ass in school tomorrow. Just sayin’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not worried,” Nikki says, and he’s really not. He’d rather deal with the petty teenage bullshit any day over what happens in his home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, man. Give me a smoke. Then I guess we should go,” Tommy says, holding his hand out for a Marlboro and the lighter. “I just needed to get out of the house, and breath in some fresh air. This is just what I need. Peace.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too, bro,” Nikki says, blowing out the last bit of smoke from his burned down nub.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Nikki?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of smoking, did I say anything weird to you last night. Like did anything…. I mean like, did we…. I mean did I…. Fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you trying to ask if anything happened between us last night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. Since you’re still talking to me, I hope I didn’t. I just know that I get really talkative and say a bunch of stupid stuff when I get drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were more than drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. That was stupid on my part.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re cool, man. Nothing happened.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear, I only remember a few weird things, like pulling a button off your shirt or something like that. I like to fiddle with stuff. My parents say I have hyperactivity. I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t pull my button off. Cathy did when she ripped my shirt open.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, OK, good. I was worried that maybe I said something really fucked,” Tommy says, the sound of relief evident in his voice. “I felt bad about the button.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki decided not to embarrass Tommy about the things he said. It will just be his own little secret. He’s coming to the conclusion that Tommy is battling within himself, trying to understand his sexual identity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All good, man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy lies awake in his bed at 5am; torn between a well-needed hour of sleep and clutching thoughts of Nikki. He couldn’t tear his mind away. All night, everytime he took a deep breath, nestled into his drool-stain pillow, and closed his eyes, that frictionless voice would swell through the passages of his brain. His thumb would stroke the rounded edge of his mattress, imagining that it was Nikki’s jawline that was being rolfed; ultimately triggering a filling of the front of his briefs. Delirious for sleep, he battled with himself to ignore it, shifting around from side to stomach, back to side, for hours. At 5am though, he’s surrendering; blindly patting around on the underside of his boxspring mattress for the medium-sized container of Vaseline; the one his mother frantically searched for one Saturday afternoon while Athena wailed from burning her arm on a baking sheet when removing cookies from the oven. Every time Tommy’s eye catches the fading inch long scar on her forearm, he feels a modicum of guilt creep in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few years ago, Tommy took his pinched pocket knife and created a nice, clean slit in the tautly-pulled material that covers the wooden structure on the underside of the mattress boxspring. It’s his stash-away spot, reserved for things like the Vaseline, a deck of nudie playing cards, empty airplane bottles of various spirits, cigarettes, a Zippo lighter, condoms, crosstops and Valium, Kimberly’s panties, an close-up picture of some random girl’s splayed open crotch, a smut novel, cum covered socks, and the pocket knife itself. Tommy has strategically placed one wrapped condom, some matchbooks, a swiss pocket multi-tool, and a novelty coin with a nude girl’s tits etched on the heads side and ass on the tails side, in the top drawer of his nightstand. It’s a diversion tactic to keep the snoops from digging further; thinking that…. aha! …… they’ve struck gold, undercovering the teenage boy’s deep secrets.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s hand finally lands on the Vaseline. He determines that he’s going to have to create a new slit, as this one has reached capacity. It’s mostly the socks. Tommy’s mom, following the dull and frustrating chore of matching socks, is always wondering out loud where the missing socks go, doesn’t everyone?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The lid is unscrewed in the predawn darkness. Tommy shimmies down his snug briefs, pulls them off, then two of his lanky fingers dip into the slick jelly. He spreads his legs apart, and takes a deep breath in before touching himself. He literally bites down on his tongue, as a reminder to himself not to even murmur the slightest exhale. After yesterday morning’s fiasco, he’s not taking any chances for someone in this house to misconstrue and hijack the event. And it’s without saying, again literally, that the name Nikki will never again pass through his lips in this house. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The 16 year old starts the deed, envisioning Nikki in the dark hills, backlit by the twinkling lights of L.A., leaning in, squeezing Tommy’s thigh, as his burnt tipped fingers firmly grasp his swollen cock, already leaking with precum. The silence is cut by the sound of petroleum jelly squishing against his flesh. The sound is deafening to Tommy. He’s convinced that someone is listening at the door. He lifts and cranes his head to see if any shadows dance around near the crack underneath his bedroom door. The only movement afoot is his right arm in motion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, despite Tommy’s earlier protest of complete silence, he can’t stop himself from parting his lips, licking them with a low groan, as Nikki’s heart-shaped top lip and brooding bottom lip grow closer to his… closer…. closer, until that plush tenderness is pressed up against his own salivating mouth, his spirited tongue beckoning #6’s bourbon-laced lapper to join his; soon gliding along each other like sweet melted buttercream.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy tenses up, every nerve is exploding, he takes hold of his jettisoned briefs and forcefully pours forth a fountain of pearly milk into the tight ribbing of his Fruit of the Looms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy breathes deeply. He wipes his hand off on the briefs, wads them up, dropping them to the far side of the bed for now, then lays back, sinking deep into the mattress as his high begins to wane; receding into a warm pool of contentment. At least that’s what it feels like. Bliss. Magic. Justice has been served. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As those post-climatic feelings begin to wear off, Tommy is struck with sudden fear that somebody knows what he just did. Mom? Dad? Nikki? He stops breathing to listen for the tsks and sighs of disapproval to start ringing out. It’s still. There’s not a sound. He allows his breathing to resume as he realizes that it’s his own psyche that’s wagging it’s disapproving finger. How could he be so filthy. So yucky. This is wrong. How could he bring Nikki into his defiled world that resides in his head. Yet, Tommy can’t seem to ignore the fact that the orgasm that just occured was his mightiest one yet. Carnal and raw, like he’s never achieved before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy rolls over onto his side, towards the wall, feeling shame. Why can’t he just be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> 16 year old boy? He wouldn’t wish this on anyone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sits in homeroom. Cindy, who still sits to his right is restless and is smacking her gum loudly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Everett! Gum in the trash bin!” the homeroom teacher admonishes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She huffs, rolls her eyes, and gets up in dramatic fashion to throw the gum away. Moments later flopping back into her seat with exaggerated motions. Tommy knows that she’s looking for attention. He doesn’t care, but he’s feeling an urge to acknowledge it; perhaps to further distance himself from the homecoming sister swap scandal by acting like he knows nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I don’t remember if I told you congratulations yet. You know, for winning homecoming.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She suddenly perks up, latching onto Tommy’s attention, “You voted for me, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. I didn’t even really know any of the other girls,” Tommy replies, slipping in a nice backhanded compliment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She purses her lips. “Well, I thought that you might like to know that I’m dating Vince Wharton now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This doesn’t surprise Tommy, as he spoke with Vince yesterday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool, Cin.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s so handsome and romantic.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy rolls his eyes. Vince is his friend, and he knows that scoring is Vince’s only goal in the game.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Plus, Tommy,” Cindy continues. “He’s having a pool party this weekend. Everyone who’s anyone is going to be there. I’m not sure if he remembered to invite you though. He didn’t mention so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I already know about it,” Tommy lies. He doesn’t care about Vince’s party. Generally, the terms Vince and party are not a smart combination. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh… well, he’s also gonna debut his new band. He sings and sounds so melodic, just like a meandering brook.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy can’t help but to crack a smile, Vince’s voice is more like sand in your swimsuit. He’s always screeching out rock anthems in the hallway at any given moment, fingering his air guitar. He wants to rock too, but his main endeavor is girls right now. It’s not a priority for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should be a blast,” Tommy replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bell rings to dismiss homeroom. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should probably go to the party, Tommy. You know, stay with the choice crowd,” Cindy says, bopping off with her books.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy follows quickly behind her, his aborted mission of spotting Nikki in the hallways has been renewed. Just one glance will do him good. But, oh my god, maybe not. He just had a mind fantasy jerk-off of him this morning. How could he possibly look him in the eye, and carry a conversation without vomiting from nerves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Tommy tosses this around in his head, he feels weight on his shoulders, accompanied by squealing. He turns around to see Melissa all smiles, walking in step with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I’m sure that you heard about Vince’s party this weekend. Are we going?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We? Tommy thinks to himself. Fuck. Why did he call her yesterday? If he didn’t, this relationship would have been dead in the water. He’s just too damn nice sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. Should be fun.” Tommy’s dumb tongue just took over. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god. I can’t wait. I bought a new bikini just a few weeks ago. Can you say Cheryl Tiegs?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy just beams, it’s as contrived as can be. “I can’t wait either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa lunges towards Tommy to plant a kiss on his cheek, then sprints off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dammit Tommy! Why do you keep doing this to yourself?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two seconds later, his face is kissing a locker, as he hears laughter travel down the hallway away from him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just another morning in school…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------------</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Already working on my next book. More reader requests. Simple one offs, that will be hijacked and Kabellafied.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Bastard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They get to know each other even more. Nope... not in what way. Some day. :D</p>
<p>‐------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>During lunch, Vince won’t shut up about his party.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You guys are gonna shit yourself when you hear my band, and the girls are gonna be soiling their panties in mass quantities.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your parents away for the weekend?” Tommy asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, shit-for-brains, my dad is gonna be scratchin’ records at the DJ’s booth, and my mom will be heading up the wet t-shirt contest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh. Does she have a nice rack?” Tommy smirks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vince smacks him the face. “Don’t talk about my mother like that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But--” Tommy’s protest gets cut off. Vince is the one that brought it up!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Vin, you ever see Mrs. Bass?” Ralph asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!” Tommy yells at his friend, clenching his fist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Ralph shrugs. “Anyway, dude, she was like Miss Turkey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Greece, you moron!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Same fucking thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not at all man. That’s why you’re failing geography,” Tommy gripes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Am not. Anyway, she was like a fucking model or pageant princess from the land of baklava. She’s definitely a Mrs. Robinson.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ralph! Seriously, shut the fuck up!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have to wonder how she produced a <em> greecy </em> turkey like you. Get it? Heh….”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy shoves his friend with force, landing him on his ass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Bass!!” the lunch monitor calls out. “To the office!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was talking smack about my mother!” Tommy throws his arms up in protest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now!” the monitor yells, arm and finger extended, pointing towards the doors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy turns back to his friends, flipping them a double bird, as they can’t stop laughing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy takes a seat in the office to wait for the principal, leg bouncing out of frustration and anticipation. Minutes tick by, then the door opens….out walks a familiar face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki?” Tommy says, as he draws near.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki flashes a crooked grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thomas, Principal Eisenbutt will see you now,” the secretary says. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy stands up, “Um, look for me out front after school.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Bass!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coming!” Tommy says, walking forward, but looking back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki gives him a brief thumbs up before Tommy enters the office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy gets his verbal spanking and a detention for tomorrow from Eisenbutt, but he doesn’t really care anymore. He’s back on cloud nine after running into Nikki. He’s almost glad that he got sent to the office now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---------------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s after school. Tommy ditched his bus ride home, in favor of waiting for Nikki out in the front pavilion. He’s antsy, and looking all over for him. Several minutes have passed since school’s been dismissed, and he’s beginning to wonder whether Nikki forgot and maybe got on his bus, or worse didn’t want to meet up. Just then, he feels a hand on his shoulder and spins around with a smile; it fades fast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi Tommeeee,” Nicky says, biting her bottom lip, trying to hide her undeniable grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh, Nicky. How are you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m great. I’m a walker.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you miss your bus? Maybe you can help me carry my books and then my mom can drive you home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. It’s OK. I got a ride. I’m good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” she smiles wide. “Is your van here?” Nicky says, staring at Tommy’s groin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No! Juniors don’t have on-campus parking privileges,” holding his book over his crotch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh… that’s too bad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey yo! T-Bone!” Vince hollers out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy lays his hand in his face. All he wanted to do was wait for Nikki #6, and instead he gets Nicky #hell no, and his ball-busting friends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who’s this?” Ralph sneers, throwing his arm around Tommy’s shoulders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My sister’s friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Didn’t know that you hung out with her friends,” Vince says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean, Tommy? We had dinner the other night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, dinner. By candlelight?” Vince asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No! She stayed for dinner with my sister.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well she invited me, but she told me that it was because To--” Nicky begins to say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit! I forgot! I gotta run back in and grab my book for English! The report is due Friday!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy jets back inside, leaving Nicky and his friends behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicky suddenly seems uncomfortable standing in front of two junior boys whom she doesn’t know, and says that she has to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey Nicky,” Ralph says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah?” she chirps, nervously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know, Vince is having this party on Saturday at his house. It’s gonna be outta sight. I think that Tommy is too shy to ask you to go, so I figured I’d let you know. Maybe you can come with Athena,” Ralph says, as Vince smacks the back of his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh really?” Nicky beams.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. I’ll make sure that Athena gets the address.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“OK. Um, OK. Well, I do have to be on my way from before mother begins to worry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And away you go!” Ralph cracks up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck!” Vince smacks him again. “I don’t want freshmen at my party unless they’re fuckable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t think?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, are you going to go for it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hell no, but I thought that it might make Tommy’s evening more interesting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know Tommy’s been kind of lame lately, but he’s not that desperate. Come on, man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, dipshit. Just fucking with him. Crushed my fucking cigarettes when he pushed me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you said that shit about my mom, I would have broken your ass too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You obviously haven’t met his mom,” Ralph says, slapping Vince on the shoulder, as they start walking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy runs back in to get his book. He wasn’t planning on working on the report tonight, but he figures he may as grab the book anyway. Maybe he can get a little done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just as he slams his locker shut, Nikki rounds the corner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy! Fuck. I’m sorry. I thought that I was going to miss you. My shop teacher kept me after to talk to me about my project.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I would have waited. I just needed something from my locker. I got a project too,” Tommy says, waving the Macbeth novel that he just retrieved in front of Nikki. “Hate this shit. I gotta report to do, and I gotta recite some shit in class.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha! <em> Life is but a walking shadow. A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more, </em>” Nikki recites.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit, you got your parts memorized already?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah. I just know it. I don’t have that project.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I thought all of 11th grade had the same curriculum.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not all. Come on. You wanna get out of here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Wanna come over? We have to walk a few blocks to catch the city bus.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure!” Nikki surges. “Shit man, I’m not sure if I want to hear your drums first or listen to the UFO album,” Nikki grins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m game for either,” Tommy says. He’s game for anything if it involves Nikki.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They arrive at Tommy’s house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, just a warning. My mom is like up in my business a lot. She might try to ask you a bunch of stupid questions and shit. Not like to be bitchy. I mean like nosy. But, on the other hand, she’s been known to bake cookies for my friends. Oh, and my sister, if she’s around, is fucking annoying.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They go inside. “Mom! I’m home!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She comes in from the kitchen. “You’re home late,” she says, eyeballing Nikki.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I missed the bus. Um, mom this is my friend Nik--, um Nicholas.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Nikki can make the correction of his name, Mrs. Bass responds. “It’s so nice to meet you Nicholas. Are you new to the school?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. <em> Nicholas </em> is new,” Tommy butts in, emphasizing the name Nicholas, hoping that Nikki takes the hint to not make the correction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope that you’re finding Royal Oak school to your liking. This is a very pleasant area to settle into. Where’s your family from, Nicholas?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am. The school is fine, and we’re from Seattle, Washington.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh. Well, we’ll have to have you over for a seafood dinner one evening. Isn’t that the main cuisine in Seattle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mom, we’re going to go upstairs to listen to my records.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Be sure to leave time to complete your homework.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup,” Tommy says, hurrying up stairs, Nikki running up after him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They get to Tommy’s bedroom, and he shuts the door behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck. Thanks, man. I’m sorry about the name thing. Um, it’s a long story, but my sister has a friend named Nicky who likes me, and I just…. I couldn’t…. Look my family is batshit crazy sometimes. They think that I like the girl, and I just didn’t wanna bring that up with the name,” Tommy rambles, obviously trying to make the story make sense without bringing up the wet dream mishap. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t like Nicholas. It just rubs me wrong. It’s a long story, but I had a step-dad when I was little, and he always used to call me that. I hated it. And I hated him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy looks down. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it with my mom. I--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, man. It’s fine. I can deal. Your mom is nice, so I don’t mind. I like the way she says it with her accent. What is it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s from Greece. I was born there too. Look, I can fix it,” Tommy offers again, although hoping Nikki let’s it go. He’s not sure what hell he’s gonna bring upon himself with another Nikki in the picture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever, man. It’s fine. And that’s cool. I love Greek Mythology. But let’s just start cranking that music.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like Greek cooking. That’s about it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you speak it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nope, and I don’t want to. My mom speaks it a lot, and it’s fucking annoying. I can’t understand her half the time,” Tommy says, laying the record on the turntable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I like her accent. Let me see that album sleeve.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy puts the record on, and the pair sit on the floor and listen and talk about it for a good while. Nikki also takes the opportunity to look through Tommy’s other records.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We like a lot of the same stuff.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah? What albums do you have?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Only a few. I don’t actually have a stereo or even a record player. But I’m planning on getting one soon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, sorry. Well, I just got this on my last birthday. I had to use my parent’s cabinet stereo prior to this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I should be getting mine for Christmas. I hope,” Nikki says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That would be cool. Then we can listen to records at your house too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki would rather not. He might drop home with a friend on occasion, but never to stay, but he doesn’t say anything about that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a knock on the door. Voula opens it. “I want you to start on your homework in about a half hour so that it’s done before dinner.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“OK, mom.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you be getting picked up Nicholas?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, my mom is still at work, but I can take the bus.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be silly. Tommy can drive you home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I live like 20 minutes away, though,” Nikki says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mom, please. Can I drive him? I promise I’ll get my homework done before bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“OK, but perhaps you should leave now, then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We got one more song to listen to. OK? Then we’ll go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine,” Voula smiles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She leaves and closes the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, man. She’s annoying about things like homework sometimes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She’s not annoying. Just doing what a mother should be doing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess. I would just rather sit and play records all day than fucking homework.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t we all. What do you have to do? Read the book?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I read it. I need to do a summary for each act, then memorize a specific passage. Plus I have math and science. English is the worst though. I hate reading and writing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not that bad. I read and write in my spare time. A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Othello.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really? You must like summaries and dull books?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Othello? Dude, it’s like a tale of murder, deceit, jealousy and racism from 350 years ago. It’s all subjective. I write lyrics too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s different.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not really. It’s just the same as poetry. Shakespeare reads like poetry to me. It’s all interrelated.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh god. I hate poetry. Except maybe this; </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> ‘There once was a man from Nantucket, whose cock was so long he could suck it. He said with a grin, licking cum off his chin, if my ear was a cunt, I would fuck it.’ </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy starts laughing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki laughs too. “Don’t think your teacher would like that. You ever read Edgar Allen Poe?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, last year. The Fall of the House of Usher. Eh.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “From childhood’s hour, I have not been </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As others were, I have not seen </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As other saw, I could not bring </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> My passions from a common spring </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> From the same source I have not taken </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> My sorrow, I could not awaken </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> My heart to joy at the same tone </em>
</p>
<p><em> And all I loved, I loved alone,” </em>Nikki recites.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you write that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it’s called <em> Alone </em> by Poe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, well the way you said it, made it sound like it was personal to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is. I like a lot of poetry, and I do write my own.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit, man. You must be in the honors class, right. That must be why I don’t see you. Although, I see other honors kids. I--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. Not in honors. Actually, I’m in remedial classes. I’m in the dumbass wing. That’s why you don’t see me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait, what? Fuck. I didn’t mean--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy, it’s fine. It’s my attitude and the way I dress that gets me pigeon-holed, but it’s for the best anyway because I don’t give a shit about school. I think that I know enough. I’m not planning on finishing. It will be a waste of my time. I know what I want to do, and I know that I’m smart enough to do it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you’re so close to the finish line.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not really. All of the moving that I’ve done, and getting kicked out of schools, I’m behind on credits. It means like summer school, or finishing school, or some bullshit like that. I lived in Mexico for awhile. Those credits didn’t count for shit when we moved to Texas after.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy shit. Mexico?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, don’t ask. I think my mom and her husband were up to no good. But I got to experience some great food.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And Texas. I thought you were from Washington, and didn’t you also mention Idaho?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All them, plus more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, hmm. I hope that you don’t have to move again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki smiles. “I’m not going anywhere. I was born in California. I’ve done the circuit. I’m back, and this is where I start the rest of my life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy pulls up to Nikki’s house. They talked more about school and classes. Nikki told Tommy about the stereo deal. He also offered to help him with his Macbeth project. Nikki doesn’t mind the challenge. He doesn’t get challenged by his own classes, so why not focus on someone else’s?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks for the ride,” Nikki says, opening the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I forgot to ask. Why were you in the office today?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Someone was starting shit with me in gym about fucking Cindy’s sister. Put him in his place. Don’t think he’ll be fucking with me anymore. Got a detention”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s it? For fighting?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup. Coach wants me to finish out the last few games of the season. Guess he downplayed it,” Nikki says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I may not see you during the day, but I’ll see you in detention. I got one too. My friend was pissing me off; talking shit about my mom. Got caught shoving him. Whatever. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me who it is. I’ll fuck him up. Who would say shit about your mom?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Naw, we fuck around with each other all the time. Normal for us. I just got caught hands-on this time. And he wants to fuck my mom, that’s why.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki laughs. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he can see why. “See you tomorrow. 3pm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki comes home to an empty house. He prefers it that way; although if he had a mother like Tommy’s maybe he’d prefer the company. Nikki’s mother kept up her act of contrition when he came home last night. However, this morning he detected an icier vibe. He realized that her mock tenderness would soon be coming to an end; probably abruptly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had his own homework; not sure whether he’s willing to do it or not. He’d rather write lyrics. All the talk about moving around and learning the ins and outs of every new city, got him thinking about songwriting; not to mention his burgeoning friendship with Tommy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “My heart’s in the county, my feet’s in the city with you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> All my friends are eating sushi, talkin’ bad about you know who. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> My tongue’s talkin’ riddles, but I just can’t seem to find a clue. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> So I take a swig of whiskey, and jump into the saddle with you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I just can’t seem to break the shackles of the city boy blues. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I got the city boy blues.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki lays his notebook down and crashes for a while; being woken up by his mother less than an hour later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki!” Deana stands at the door yelling. “Open the door, Nikki!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What!” Nikki yells out in a groggy voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Open the door!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki gets to his feet, and to the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What!” he blares, opening it, just a crack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deana pushes it open with force, catching him off guard, which causes him to stumble backwards.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The school called today,” she says tapping her foot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Two F’s, Nikki.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think I realized how stupid my son really is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are we done?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You better straighten yourself up, or you can kiss that stereo goodbye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha. That’s a deal between me and Nona and Tom. Keep your fucking nose out of it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deana smacks Nikki straight-up on his nose with her open palm. “Your nose might end up broken if you don’t curb your attitude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki rubs his nose and checks for blood. Then returns to sit on his bed, ignoring his mother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you want dinner, it will be ready in an hour,” she says, walking away towards her own bedroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki isn’t in the mood to be upset. Well, he is upset, but he’s not in the mood to give his feelings any attention about what just happened. He’s still feeling good about spending time with Tommy today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He thinks that they’re clicking, and this excites him. He knows he’s finally starting to take steps towards making his dreams come true. Not only that, he’s just happy to get to know Tommy. He has this irresistible boyish charm and Nikki completely buys into it; like a sweet and salty combination of the two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the night in the van, Nikki is pretty certain that Tommy has some sort of attraction towards him. That sort of brings an electrifying vibe to their time together. He’ll bide his time on that, not wanting to fuck anything up by assuming things or jumping the gun. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki pulls out his dusty Greek mythology book. It seems like it’s a good time to brush up on that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On Tuesday, during detention, Nikki helped Tommy along with his book report. Students are only allowed to work on homework in detention, otherwise that shit would be ignored.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They didn’t get together that day after school, due to the detention cutting into their time, but they managed to get together over the next 3 days, working around band and football practices. Nikki finally had a chance to see Tommy play on his drum kit. He couldn’t stop smiling. Tommy was even better than he could have imagined, even though Tommy insisted that he was rusty. If that was rusty, he can’t wait to see on-point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s Friday. There’s a game. The marching band played, roaring out school spirit. The football players hustled across the field, a constant shower of blood and sweat droplets raining down. They pulled out another win.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the game, Tommy and Nikki met up, and slipped away unannounced with each other, ending up on The Strip, cruisin’. <em> The Roxy, The Whisky, Gazzarri’s. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See those marquees, Tommy? Our names are going to be on there someday,” Nikki says, wide-eyed, looking out in utter fascination. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think so?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I know so. Come on. Park. Let’s go see one of these bands now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, I don’t have money for the cover,” Tommy says, pulling his 2 front jeans pockets inside out, as mock proof.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No worries, man. I got it. My mom gives me money to get her cigarettes. I steal them from the store instead, and pocket the money. I need to save up to buy a bass guitar.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll pay you back. I get a $3.00 weekly allowance.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s that?” Nikki huffs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, you see I do chores around--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know what an allowance is dipshit. Just making a point that I’ve never gotten one. If I need something or want something, I either get it or I don’t. Most of the time I don’t, especially now that I’m not living with my grandparents. They’ve been known to spoil me on occasion if they felt I merited some sort of reward. But, when I’m strictly with my mom, I usually have to resort to stealing. I’ve gotten pretty skilled at it, and have yet to be caught.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh, heh. Um, cool, Nikki,” Tommy says, uncomfortably, having only stolen a few pieces of candy himself. Oh, and that pocketknife and a porn magazine. That was a big score for him, winning some popularity points for guts and glory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They go to the Roxy to see a band called Power Tower.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck! Look at this place!” Nikki blares. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was here once. I have a friend who plays in a cover band. I don’t think that they’ve been invited back. I thought they were kind of shitty.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, like this band. What the fuck? They’re like AC/DC wannabes, but sucking badly at it. That fucking singer hasn’t moved an inch from the mic stand. They need someone who is going to move his ass up there to draw the crowd in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Boring! More like Power Failure,” Tommy snickers, adding his two cents in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After another few songs, the singer introduces the drummer. There’s about 3 woots from the crowd, as he beats out a lame drum solo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck, man. I can do better than that with just my tenor drum,” Tommy says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See Tommy, this is how I know that we’re going to make it. We can blow some of these fucking bands out of the water. We can probably achieve that at our first rehearsal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One problem though, Nikki.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? I know, I need a bass. I’m going to be 18 soon, and I’m looking to get a job at the corner liquor store.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, yeah, there’s that. But don’t we need a guitarist and singer too?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, man. I’m working on it. I could put a band together by tomorrow if I wanted to be like this vapid group, but I’m on the lookout for the best.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pair stay until the end, Nikki ducking in and out of corners, checking out the place from head to toe. They leave soon afterwards, and Tommy drives to Nikki’s house to drop him off home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Nikki. Um, my friend is having a pool party tomorrow night. Do you want to go with me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pool party?” Nikki inquires. It sounds like such a cliched and suburban thing to do in So Cal; preferring to paddle around in quiet fishing holes himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Um, well, there will be music and girls. Oh and alcohol.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now you’re talking,” Nikki smiles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Ten Seconds To Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Saturday night, and there's a party going on! Neither Tommy nor Nikki particularly want to be there, yet there they are.</p>
<p>‐-----------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy picks up Nikki for the party, who's stepping out the door in his trademark black clothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s your swimsuit?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going in the fucking pool.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just not my thing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, OK. Um, hey… my girlfriend is supposed to meet me there. Uh, I’ll need to spend a little bit of time with her. Will you be OK without me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, dude. Girls, alcohol. It’s all good. And tell me why you just don’t break up with that bitch if it’s such a drag for you to hang out with her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. She’s not actually a bitch. She’s pretty nice, and I guess that’s the problem.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Want me to do it for you?” Nikki says, sporting a sly grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Please don’t. I’ll figure it out…. Some day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re letting that monstrous cock go to waste on the wrong people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the problem. It’s just that it would be nice to be known for some of my other redeeming qualities.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just saying, man,” Nikki says, knowing that Tommy is most likely not a pussy hound.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t really have time for a girlfriend. They’re so fucking needy,” Tommy sighs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I already told you that I’ll let the girl down easy for you. I got my ways.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I got it,” Tommy says, turning the radio up. He’s got it bad for Nikki, but obviously, like most everyone else, he surmises Nikki is straight. Nikki would probably get Melissa off of his back, but then he’d be fucking her himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive on the scene, and make their way to the back yard. There’s about a zillion kids there already. Tommy stops in his tracks, and is mortified to see his sister and Nicky swimming in the pool. What the fuck?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You OK. What wrong,” Nikki says, nudging Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy exhales loudly in frustration. “My fucking sister is here. What the hell? Who invited her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who gives a shit. There’s so many fucking people here, it will be easy to avoid her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later, Tommy’s reflexes snap to, as Melissa runs towards him, leaping into his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommeeee!!! What took you so long to get here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to pick up my friend,” Tommy says, motioning towards Nikki.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She huffs. “Who cares. I got stuff to show you,” she says, planting kisses on his face; Tommy subtly trying to avoid the lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, are you good for a little while?” Tommy asks Nikki.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m good,” Nikki says, popping his eyebrows up. “Go have fun.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy parts ways for now, not even able to produce a fake smile, as he’s led away from Nikki by his eager girlfriend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki surveys the scene. There’s music blasting through a stereo system. No band, yet. Kids cannonballing into the pool. Kids making out in darker corners. Girls gathered in gossip circles. None of this is his scene. Macho guys funneling from a keg. He sees a few other lone guys sitting in lounge chairs across the way. One is dressed completely in black, perhaps resembling a long lost twin, but weird looking. And he’s holding an acoustic guitar. Nikki figures he’s in the band that’s going to play tonight. He strolls over; doesn’t say anything, just taking a nearby seat. If they talk, they talk. If not, who cares. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls out his packs of smokes, takes one out, puts it between his lips, then tears a match off. As he’s about ready to light the cigarette, he’s smacked on the top of his head firmly with something hard. Nikki turns around and sees the guitarist placing his guitar back across his lap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That fucking hurt, but Nikki chooses not to soothe the top of his head with his hand, as to not appear weak. “You got a fucking problem?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is your problem, Nikki says, jumping up out of his chair, clenching his fist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You fucked my girl,” the head basher says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you. And I don’t blame her,” Nikki spits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Settle down, buckshot. We’re even now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck being even. If she’s with you, she was probably a lousy lay for me, so we’re far from fucking even!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She is a lousy lay, and she fucks around too much. I get back at her by fucking around with her dumb-a-tacks sister, and by not giving a shit. Like I fucking care.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why’d you hit me with the guitar head, and are you talking about those fucking Everett sisters?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Opportunity was calling, and yeah. That’s them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You must be the mysterious Mick then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the mystery?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My friend told me that you’d never hit someone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t, my guitar did.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Nikki smiles, lightening his mood. “I guess we can be considered pussy brothers then; fucking the same broads.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Two girls don’t make us bonded. Fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatsa matter? Can’t find anyone your age desperate enough to fuck you. You gotta come scout them out at teenage hangouts?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, Cathy’s best friend’s brother is in this fucking band. I got dragged along. All was fine, until your KISS-loving ass came and sat down next to me,” Mick says, pointing to Nikki’s shirt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry I have taste in current music. I heard the Dorsey Brothers are going to make an appearance at the Senior Citizen Center. I’m sure you’ll be able to get in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Those motherfuckers died 20 years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and it’s amazing that you’re still here,” Nikki can’t help but to grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I like Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton. Even Jimi Hendrix.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hendrix? Can you play like him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Once that fucking teenage bozo band starts, you’re gonna be wishing that someone like me was up there to save everyone’s ears.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You play in a band now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My last band sucked. Sick of playing fucking cover tunes. Same old shit over and over again, and it’s going nowhere.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki’s crooked smile crawls up on his face. “I’m starting a band. We’re going to do originals. I already got the best fucking drummer around. Looking for a guitarist and singer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh please. You’ll never see me starting off in some mama’s boy basement band.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call me a mama’s boy, and give me your fucking guitar.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you gonna hit me with it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just give it to me. I’ll show you what I got.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sooo, what do you think, Tommy?” Melissa says, dropping her halter top dress to expose her bikini. “It’s Halston inspired.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is not sure if he’s supposed to be impressed about that. “It’s pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well maybe we should go in the pool.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess it will be good to cool off,” Tommy says, taking Melissa around to the other end, away from his sister.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are we at the deep end?” Melissa whines in the most annoying voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coz I just wanna jump in?” Tommy says, with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But I thought that we could cozy up to the side where we can still stand, and well, the sun is set, and some parts of the pool are darker than others.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, like down here at the deep end.” Tommy is not actually completely against making out with the girl, but he’s got to avoid his sister and Nicky. Or else, some girl, one way or another, is probably going to start crying before long, and Tommy is going to be caught in the middle. But before Tommy can respond again, they’re interrupted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey all you fuckers out there! You’re about ready to be entertained! Someone save me some beer and some chicks!” Vince blares out, sounding shallow and stupid, turning his back to put his beer down with a laugh, as the band starts tuning their instruments.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Tommy. Let’s do something. Everyone is going to be watching the band.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sees his sister and Nicky swim towards the deeper end, as a crowd of older kids start to flood the shallow end since it’s closer to the patio where the band is going to play.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm, you know what, Tommy. Everyone is going to be listening to the band, so why don’t we go inside?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t think that Vince wants people inside,” Tommy says, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be silly. I already saw James and Denise go in. Plus Vince and his entourage. They’re all going in. But they won’t once the band starts, and we’ll be all alone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve been kind of waiting to hear Vince sing. I’ve never seen him sing in front of a crowd before.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Tommy! Why are you being so obtuse?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly there’s a huge clamor in the pool. Cindy is there, and somehow her bikini top has come off. She freaking out, crossing her arms over her chest, and the guys are going crazy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy isn’t in the mood for any of this sophomoric behavior. He figures, what the hell, let’s go in, and maybe make out a little. “Come on, Melis, let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They creep into the house through the sliding door. Tommy starts to take steps towards the living room, but Melissa jerks him in the other direction towards the bedrooms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, I don’t think that we should disrespect Vince by going into his bedroom,” Tommy protests.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Melissa just rolls her eyes, and drags him with more force down the hallway. Only the door is locked when Melissa tries the doorknob.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” someone yells from behind the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They move to the next bedroom, and it looks like the master bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly be in my friend’s parents’ bedroom. Come on. That’s fucking weird.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, Tommy.” Melissa says aggressively pushing him in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shuts the door, and immediately wraps her arms around Tommy for kissing. Then she backs up, and pulls the ties on her bikini top. The top falls to the ground, exposing her average set.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy takes a deep breath, and freezes, until Melissa jerks him forward by his swim suit. She sticks her hands down the waistband, planting her hands on his thighs, her thumbs dangerously close to his package. Melissa, without warning, yanks his shorts down. It’s a let down. He’s not standing tall, and Melissa is disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, her disappointment is short -lived when it very quickly turns into embarrassment when the bedroom door opens, and Vince’s parents are standing in the doorway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Wharton shrieks. Melissa shrieks and tries to cover her tits with her arms. Tommy, very quickly pulls his swimsuit back up, and then puts his hands out in defense, unsure whether Mr. Wharton is going to put his hands on him abruptly. He leaves Melissa to fend for herself, scrambling trying to reattach her top. A gentleman, perhaps, would have sheltered his girlfriend’s bare titties from view.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well kids, I think it might be best to gather your garments up, and return to the outdoors,” Mr. Wharton says, in a hokey voice, stepping out of the way; his wife burying her head in her husband’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both Tommy and Melissa dash out, she’s mortified, and starts slapping Tommy on his chest with both hands, blaming him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s just get outside,” he says, taking her by her elbow and directing her to the sliding door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once outside. “If you just let it happen in the pool, we wouldn’t have been in there,” she sobs. “I hate you,” she snaps, storming off; finding a group of girlfriends to fall into.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was about as bad as it gets. Tommy is caught with his pants down once again at Vince’s house. Why, why, why do these things keep happening to him. Knowing Vince’s parents came home early, he’s anticipating that the party is going to break apart soon, and maybe now is a good time to find Nikki and scram.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he walks around looking for him, he’s held up by his friends, who won’t allow him to step around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Tommy. Where you been?” Ralph asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Around. Hey, dude. Vince’s parents are home,” Tommy whispers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck! Are you kidding?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m not. Does Vince know? He’s fucked! I just wanna get out of here,” Tommy says, looking to step around his friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he can move away from them, the music stops.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit… Heh, mom, dad! Uh, you’re home early...heh heh,” Vince chokes out. He must be shitting himself right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Vincent, was that you singing?” Mrs. Wharton asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah mom. Um, don’t you remember? I, uh… told you that I was going to be debuting my band tonight...heh,” Vince laughs nervously, believing that he’s totally fucked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, dear. I didn’t know….,” mom utters, with her shaky hand up to her mouth, as she surveys the backyard, overrun with drunken teenagers. "Oh dear."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Wharton comes up to Vince and grabs the mic. “Listen up folks. You can stay, the band can play, but the beer and liquor goes away. Let’s it bring ‘em in. Grab them bottles and cups, and bring them up here. I’ll be checking around, ya hear!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sees Vince’s dad whisper a few things to him. He can only imagine. He’s probably going to get his ass beaten later. Within a minute, the band does a quick retune, and they start up again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once the music starts jamming again, Ralph puts his hand out to hold Tommy back. ”Hey man. What’s the rush? The old man is cool with it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess, but--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No buts, dude. Relax. I got a surprise for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No fucking way. I don’t trust your ass,” Tommy protests. “Excuse me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T-Bone, come here. Let me just show you,” Kyle says, putting his arm around his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His friends start walking him to the hot tub.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Check it out, man. A fucking jet tub. Let’s get some chicks in here to start this party,” Ralph says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kyle has to force Tommy in with him, as Ralph pulls a disappearing act.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahhh, this is the life, dude. Wish I had one of these motherfuckers,” Kyle says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It is pretty choice,” Tommy says, finally relaxing into the molded seats, letting the warmth and rippling water ease his tense muscles. Tommy shuts his eyes for a hot minute, as he happily melts away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here you go!” Ralph’s voice rings out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy opens his eyes, and sees a blue bikini clad Nicky standing in front of him on the edge of the hot tub.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now remember what I told you,” Ralph says to Nicky, starting to walk away; Tommy’s other friend climbing out of the tub.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! What the hell! Where’s my sister?” Tommy barks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s with friends, listening to the band,” Ralph laughs, walking off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Tommy. I was hoping to see you tonight,” Nicky says, smiling bright.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s nice to see you too, but I have to get going. I got a friend here--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, listen to me. You don’t have to be shy. Watch this!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nicky jumps in the water, and is attempting to grab Tommy at the thighs, but the rapid jets and buoyancy in the tub is causing her to float away and lose her grip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is squirming to get away, slipping around in the slick seats among the frothy bubbles, as Nicky comes back for a second try.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh gosh. I’m sorry. I’m not that good at this.” She smiles, and chops her teeth showing off her braces. “Your friends told me that the braces make it feel even better.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god!! Nicky! No, no, no! Braces are no good. None of this is good,” the drummer says, pulling himself out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But Tommy. I’m trying so hard to give you what you want,” Nicky says, looking like she’s going to cry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nicky, listen. I hate to tell you this, but I already have a girlfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But… but no one told me. I’m so embarrassed. Oh my god. I’m such a geek,” she says, covering her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just at the moment, Tommy notices black boots standing next to the tub. He looks up. It’s Nikki.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nicholas! Oh my god. I’m sorry I left you for so long. I… oh god--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nicky scrambles out of the pool, and runs off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki, Fuck! I gotta go talk to that girl. My friends are douchebags.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll handle it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no. It doesn’t need to be handled your way,” Tommy says, worried that Nikki is going to start throwing punches or mocking the poor girl. “That’s Nicky, and she got the notion that I liked her. My friends just did something rotten. I have to find her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, trust me on this. I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki saw the direction that the girl ran off to. After a minute, he finds her sitting, crying in a corner of the yard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey you. It’s OK. I’m Tommy’s friend, Nikki. I saw what happened,” he says, squatting down to her level.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so embarrassed. I can never face anyone again. They told me that Tommy wanted--” Nicky sobs, breaking down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Those guys are bad news, and Tommy didn’t know what they were up to. He’s a really nice guy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought he liked me. Everyone told me he did. Even his sister.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen. What are you? About 14?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods her head yes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I can tell already that you’re going to grow into a really beautiful young lady. Just give yourself a little more time to enjoy the fun and innocent things in life. You’ll know when you’re ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But, I like guys now. I am ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a lot of older boys here though, including Tommy. They go fast and heavy. When you start dating, you have to start out with small things. Tommy and these guys; they’re too advanced. Tell me someone you like in your own grade. There’s gotta be someone, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I guess Mark. I liked him until I was told that Tommy liked me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does Mark know you like him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. He picked up my books once when I dropped then and smiled at me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See, there you go. Betcha Mark is a little shy too. Maybe smile back at him next time you see him. Start small. I think you’ll be much more at ease with someone like Mark because he’s probably new to dating too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You think?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. And before you know it, maybe in another year or two, guys like Tommy will be begging to ask you out. Just don’t rush to grow up. Take my advice. I know these things.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still embarrassed. Those guys told me what Tommy wants, and I didn’t know how to do it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Tommy feels badly too. So I have an idea. Tell me who those motherfuckers are who set you two up, and I’m going to have a little fun.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna get back at them,” Nicky smirks, biting her lip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup. Come on. Show me,” Nikki says, getting to his feet, and extending his hand out to help her up. He grabs a towel off of the perimeter fence to put around the girl. Then they walk towards the crowd. He puts his arm around her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they’re back in the midst of everyone again, she looks around, and soon spies Ralph and Kyle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right there. Those two,” she points.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki sees the 2 kids standing, from the back, watching the band. They’re hiding beer bottles, low on their sides. “Got it. Let’s get Tommy, OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki comes back with the girl and finds Tommy near a lounge chair, putting his shirt back on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey man, we’re good,” Nikki says to Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, I’m so sorry Nicky. I didn’t know--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Tommy. Nikki has a plan,” she smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Tommy says, looking worried. “Please don’t start a fight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said to trust me. Stay here and watch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki strolls over to Tommy’s friends. “Hey, dudes,” Nikki whispers, looking over both of his shoulders. “I just overheard that Vince’s dad is going to be coming around to confiscate beers. You better hide that shit. Stash it somewhere, until he passes through, or yours is gone. Pass it on.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. Thanks for the heads up, man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki slips away, and sees the kids looking for a place to stash their beers. There’s a patio chair nearby, and they each hide their bottles under behind the legs, hoping the bottles won’t be seen in the shadows. They go back to their spots on the patio to watch the band. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki winks at Nicky and Tommy, who are watching, and quietly goes over to the patio chair. He unzips his jeans, pulls his dick out, picks a bottle up and pisses into it. He puts that one down, and empties the rest of his bladder into the other bottle, then tucks back in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He waits another two minutes or so, then returns to Ralph and Kyle. “Hey guys, false alarm. He just took a seat over there. See him?” Nikki says, knowing the dad has been sitting there the whole time. “I think you’re safe, but just be careful though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right on, thanks,” the guys chuck a smile, then go back for their drinks; holding them low at their sides again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki walks back to Tommy and Nicky with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s sick man! That’s my friends!” Tommy says, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nicky gasps, “Oh my god. He’s taking a sip.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They watch the guys sip, and then go back to holding the bottles low. They’re so drunk, they don’t even know that they’re drinking piss beer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Nikki asks the girl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. That’s so gross. Oh my god. They’re drinking pee,” she giggles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, Nicky. Consider me and Tommy as big brothers, OK? Anyone fucks with you, you let us know, and we’ll handle it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tommy smiles, feeling so much relief that this saga is over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. Um, OK. I guess I should find your sister, Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell her that she better get her ass home! Who’s driving you home?” Tommy gripes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m driving you home now then. Go find her, and meet us by my van.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She walks off in search of Athena.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck Nikki. You kinda just saved me. The situation with the girl kind of got out of hand, thanks to my fucking friends. And if we can get out of here before my other burden comes back at me, that would be great.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go wait in the van,” Nikki suggests.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, I didn’t even get to talk to Vince,” taking a moment to watch the singer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They both stand and watch him, for a minute, singing another cover song; bucking his hips, moving around, and tickling girls’ chins. Tommy and Nikki both look at each other and smile; they’re both thinking the same thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------------------</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Sinners and Saints</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nikki and Tommy talk life.</p>
<p>Nikki gets a taste of the typical suburban lifestyle.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sinners and Saints is an obscure song that was written around the Shout era. It didn't make it to the album. It can be found on YT.</p>
<p>‐------------</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki climb into his van and wait for Athena and Nicky to get there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, um… what are your thoughts about Vince? Are you thinking what I was thinking? Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s got the right moves. And obviously his looks are spot on for a front man. His voice…. It’s got some grit to it, which I think can work well with my songs. A little practice and training, and I think that he can work. What do you think? How much of a prick is he?” Nikki replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s an arrogant son of a bitch, but of all my friends, he’s the one who’s the most real with me. Like, he’s a jerk sometimes, but he really doesn’t go out of his way to scheme and shit. It’s like he can’t be bothered, which I guess is why I trust him, more than most of my other friends. I know he really digs music. He’s always rockin’ out in school. He even quit baseball because the coach told him that he had to cut his hair to stay on the team, and he refused. His downfall is pussy. It’s like his daily goal to score. As a matter of fact, I think Vince was banging Cindy after you two broke up; like probably the next day. Maybe even that night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a fake bitch. She saw me sitting in the corner, slid up next to me on the lounge chair, putting her hand on my thigh. She told me that her new boyfriend was in the band, and how pathetic I looked being unsocial in the corner. Told me that she’s swimming with her friends, and saw me and figured that she’d come over to let me know that she’s moved on. I turned and faced her. Her breath hitched, and she licked her lips, like this,” Nikki says, shutting his eyes, rolling his tongue over his lips to demonstrate for Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy involuntarily runs his tongue over his own lips in response. He isn’t even aware he did it. Nikki notices however.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So anyway, I just leaned in and kissed her. She took my bait,” Nikki grins. “I wrapped my arms around her as I deepened the kiss, while I loosened up the ties on her bikini top on the sly. When we pulled apart, I asked her what she wanted from me. She told me nothing; that she thought that she’d just let me know what I was missing out on. I told her to go back to her friends. She walked away swishing her ass to and fro, knowing I was watching. I mean why the hell not. She’s got a tight, little ass. I can admit that. But I knew the peep show was about to get even better when she got to the edge of the pool to dive in. She came up without her top on,” Nikki says, popping his brows up, biting his tongue to stifle a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit! That was you behind that? I heard the commotion!” Tommy bellows out, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s an attention hog, and I just gave her a little boost of attention. Hey, you know that she fucks Mick too?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? How’d you find that out?” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you later. Your sister is coming. But, I think we may have ourselves a guitarist.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what?! Mick?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Mick,” Nikki smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The van door slides open. “Ughhhh!! You’re so annoying!!” Athena whines. “Why do we have to go home? It was just starting to get fun.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Tommy snaps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We were invited by your friends,” she says, in a snotty tone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do mom and dad know where you are?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well no. Well kind of. I told them we were going to a friend’s pool party. I just forgot to mention that it was your friend, not mine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s why I’m bringing you home,” Tommy says, pulling away from the curve.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so lame,” Athena huffs, crossing her arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki turns around, “Trust me. You don’t want to get tangled up with any of those motherfuckers who were at the party.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you,” Athena says, in a sultry tone, suddenly changing her demeanor. “Tommy, who’s your new friend?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The answer is no! Don’t even think about it!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh! Seriously, dumbbell, I’m just asking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Nikki,” the other Nicky says, giggling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nicholas!” Tommy shouts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Athena ignores him. “And how do you know, and I don’t?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He said he can be like our big brother,” Nicky says, still giggling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a big brother, and he sucks. And seriously, who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your brother’s friend. We’re going to start a band soon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well. That’s cool,” Athena says, fluffing her hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nicky wants to tell Athena about how Nikki peed in the beer. But she decides to wait until later, when she can bend the truth without having to reveal the embarrassing hot tub incident with her brother.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy drops the girls off at home, and then heads back out with Nikki, towards the direction of his house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna go somewhere? It’s not that late,” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we just go somewhere to talk; you know, band stuff,” Nikki suggests. “Got this too,” Nikki says, holding out his flask. “I filled it up before the liquor got confiscated.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet,” Tommy smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. Go towards my house. I’ll tell you where to turn. There’s a quiet area that I like to hang out at sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive at the spot. There’s a wooded path to a quiet pond. They find a place to sit on the ground at the edge of the water.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I come here to clear my mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“With weed?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” Nikki smiles. “Sometimes I fish. Sometimes both.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone else come back here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not usually, but on occasion. Other kids. There’s an old man that fishes. And someone who walks his dogs, but most of the time I can be alone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like that’s the way you prefer to be.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alone?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. You know, it’s not that I don’t want to be around people, it’s just that I prefer my company to be worthwhile. You know, like someone I can talk to about real stuff. Not about chicks and dances and parties. I wanna talk about music and the meanings behind the lyrics. I wanna talk about ideas, and hear stories that speak to my soul. Like your mom for instance. I want to know what it was like to grow up in Greece. I sometimes wonder what stories that old fisherman has. I bet he has a ton. I’ve never had the guts to ask him. People like things quiet when they fish. Not just to keep the fish from swimming away, but it’s often a time of self-reflection, daydreaming, and getting away from the throes of life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy takes a deep breath, wondering why in the hell Nikki wants to be around him. He’s not deep and contemplative at all. Really, he’s just 16, there’s not much else beyond chicks, dances, and parties. Well, OK, so he does contemplate what he really wants in life. It’s actually quite deep and complicated. And well, music…. yeah, he can go headlong into that. But Nikki reaches way further in the depths with literature and history and experiences. Tommy has never thought much about his mother’s life in Greece, or his father’s life in the military. There probably are some interesting stories within them, but he’s never cared to ask. Makes him wish he remembered more things about his own time in Greece. It would sound sophisticated to share a story about the Old Country, yet he was too young when he was there last and can’t recall much, other than a few flashpan visuals of a scene etched in his mind. Maybe he’ll share those someday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s hard for me to be quiet most of the time. I’m always twitching and shaking. I gotta move and keep my hands busy. My mouth seems to wanna keep rambling forward, even when my brain can’t seem to keep up. The doctors tell my mom to give me stuff to do, like hobbies. They say, things like that will keep me in line, and from being destructive. It’s why I drum. It gets my aggression out, and a lot of my nervous energy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Other than the rambling, I don’t notice it much. I like that you have things to say,” Nikki says, getting his smokes out, offering one to Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they light up, Nikki thinks about his newly formed friendship; glad that he took that step to find him and meet him. It was mainly about his drumming, but there was also that bonus about what’s in his pants. Nikki feels a little guilty for having that as one of his reasons to connect. The truth is, he still thinks about it. But not in the sense of conquest or just having fun, but he thinks he might have developed some actual feelings towards him. Hormonal feelings happen often, but stirring in his heart are rare. It’s a strange position to be in for him; especially because they’re planning a future together. But Tommy has been a safe spot for him. Someone he feels like he could let his guard down with a bit. He trusts this kid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up is probably in the top 10 things said to me on a daily basis,” Tommy shares, blowing out his initial puff of smoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? I can think of 100 other people who I would rather tell to shut up before you,” Nikki replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you can. I don’t take offense. Like I said, my mouth just goes and goes sometimes. I don’t realize I’m doing it. Most of the time--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy…. You’re doing it,” Nikki grins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Joking, man. Ramble the fuck on. But if we’re here during the day when I’m fishing; that’s when you shut the fuck up. OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair sit and talk for a while more. Nikki tells Tommy about how he met Mick at the party, the guitar, and how Mick was there when Cindy came by. Her attention to Nikki was also meant as a snub to Mick. She tries to play them both, but it backfired this time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mick seemed impressed with the vibe of Nikki’s songs. He played and sang parts of 2 of them. They need a lot more structure and refining, but the loose framework was there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then they talked about how they’ll approach Vince to ask if he has any interest. After a bit, Tommy is just drawn still, looking out at the pond.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s so quiet and peaceful,” Tommy says, drawn in by the reflection of the moon glittering on the crests of small, inconsistent ripples moving across the pond. “</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Quiet, with the exception of the insects. It’s like nature’s music; the peepers, the chirpers, and the clickers. I love music almost more than anything, but sometimes this is all I need to be at peace.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, imagine Vince’s abrasive voice cutting through all this? That was filling our ears only about an hour or so ago,” Tommy chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m glad I went for the sake of our future band, but events like that aren’t really my thing. I’d rather be here,” Nikki reveals.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m usually up for fun, but tonight was pretty rough. Every day has been fucking rough lately,” Tommy sighs, flicking small pebbles into the lake. “Just like, all this weird crap happening. Like, last year, I felt like I had my shit tight. And this year, it’s one misstep followed by another. I’m losing my edge,” Tommy laments.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No you’re not. You still got it. At least from my perspective. You obviously stood out to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. I know that I tend to leave my mark behind, wherever I’ve been. It’s the wake of Tommy Lee Bass plowing through, but I’ve just been feeling… like… my typical chaos has taken permanent residence up in my head. Like a restless soul that can’t seem to find peace. Well, except maybe here. I can see why you like the solitude of this hidden oasis.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should just be you,” Nikki says, stubbing his most recent cigarette out, then unscrewing the cap of his flask.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that I know how to be me anymore,” Tommy sighs, flicking another small pebble into the pond. “It’s like that pebble, and the far-reaching ripple effects that were created by taking the plunge. I can’t deal with the ripples. I would prefer to just sink to the bottom and stay there to avoid the ripple effect. But, being me, I can never just hide away. I envy that about you. Tucking in under the radar.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe me. It’s not easy being me. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Don’t try to be like me or anyone else. And don’t stop being who you are for me or anyone else. You’ll eventually suffocate your soul if you do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m already suffocating. People see my hyperactivity, my clownish antics, but they don't see me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki feels a knot in his stomach. He knows what he wants to do, and right now seems appropriate. “Tommy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Tommy responds looking down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy looks over at Nikki, who has turned himself to face him, and pulled himself in a few inches closer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s heart is pounding. Nikki is right next to him. He doesn’t know what that means. He knows what he wants it to mean, but there’s no time to reason it out, as he feels Nikki’s large hand cradle the back of his head, underneath his long, tangled hair. And like that, Nikki’s lips, which Tommy has fantasized about having them on his own, are actually grazing his. Their warm smoke and bourbon laced breaths co-mingle in the gap between them, it lays thick and still, seconds feel like minutes, the insects fall silent, replaced by the sound of thumping hearts. The gap closes, as their two sought-after pouts press into one another.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki takes lead, and moves his lips on Tommy’s in a way that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tommy is both terrified and electrified, and forces himself to respond by opening up. The tender, yet deeply sensual kiss lasts for a couple of minutes. Tommy places a hand on the crease where Nikki’s thigh meets his hip. And Nikki keeps his hand in Tommy’s hair, and the other on his bare knee, as he still has his swimsuit on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki is the one to pull away, but goes back to plant one more soft kiss on Tommy’s lips before sitting back up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy doesn’t know what to say. He’s stunned. “How did you know?” Tommy asks, not able to make eye contact. “I said something to you when I was high. Didn’t I? I know I did.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You did say something, but you’ve made it clear to me in many other ways. Probably without even realizing. No one else would notice, but I do,” Nikki reveals.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki… look, I’ve been struggling….um, well, I don’t know. I don’t know what I want anymore. I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You do know, Tommy. Stop lying to yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask to be like this. I tried to fight it. I mean, I like girls. They’re--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fighting it, denying it, and hiding are only going to run you into the ground. I’m not saying that you need to shout it out on a microphone, but you need to at least be true to yourself and accept it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, was that a sympathy kiss to teach me something, or was it something else? I Guess I don’t get you. I didn’t know,” Tommy says, still reeling. He thinks he’s shaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do what I want to do. I do what makes me feel good. That made me feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel good, as in a good deed and you’re patting yourself on the back. Or feel good as in, you liked it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, you turn me on. I like spending time with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy swallows hard, and his breath starts hitching. “Hand me your flask” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki smirks, and hands it over. Tommy takes down a few good glugs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Better?” Nikki asks, putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you upset?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I wanted that. I wanted it really badly. I’ll be thinking about it all night. It’s just that I…. well, as much I’ve been wanting it, I wasn’t prepared to deal with it in my head, other than in a horny teenager way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t deal, man. Let tonight just be what it is,” Nikki says, taking Tommy hand in his own, stroking his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods his head, looking down. He takes a deep breath, then wraps his fingers around Nikki’s tightly, and leans back in for another kiss. He can’t resist anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Make-out sessions soon became a regular thing for Tommy and Nikki, and Nikki was spending a lot of time at Tommy’s house. About mid-week, he finally got the invitation for that seafood dinner which Tommy’s mom mentioned to him a couple weeks prior. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While it’s true that Seattle is well known for the Pike Place Fish Market, seafood was rarely on the dinner menu. Tuna casserole was about as close as he got to a seafood extravaganza at his last home in Washington, but he didn’t let on to Mrs. Bass as she proudly presented a salmon dinner in Nicholas’ honor. Fresh seafood actually reminds him much more of his grandparents when he used to fish and bring home his catch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ew, gross,” Athena balks at the coral colored filet set before her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Athena, we don’t make critical comments about food at the table.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, mother. But I just like chicken better,” she huffs, picking the flakey filet apart with her fork.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chicken patties and bologna are all you ever want to eat,” Tommy says, with a mouthful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well you eat everything and everything gross.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s food, I’ll eat it,” Tommy remarks, close to inhaling everything on his plate, maybe even the fork.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kids! Knock it off. We have a guest,” Mr. Bass snaps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t bother me. Makes me think of my sister,” Nikki responds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, how old is she? Does she also go to Royal Oak?” Mrs. Bass inquires.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki gulps, wishing that he didn’t just say that. “No, ma’am. She’s only 11, but she’s currently living with my grandparents in Idaho until my mom feels settled here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, isn’t your father here, Nicholas?” Mr. Bass inquires.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“David,” Voula says, in a warning tone, with a sharp eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s OK to ask. No sir, he doesn’t live with us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well boy, who’s teaching you how to become a man? It’s important to know things such as how to check the fluid levels in your vehicle, how to replace fuses, and lighting the barbecue grill.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“David,” Mrs. Bass warns again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve learned a lot from my grandfather,” Nikki says, feeling annoyed, but hiding it behind a fake smile. He knows how to do all of those things, and a ton more, as he’s had to be self-reliant for the past few years, while with his mom in Seattle and now here. He’s got more important things to learn, like how to cohabitate with an abusive mother and her boyfriends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what type of career are you looking to get into when you grow up?” Mr. Bass continues with his awkward questioning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki bristles. Grow up? He had to grow up years ago. “I’ll be getting into the music industry, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s a fine career here in Southern California. Producing? Technical? What kind of degree do you want to pursue?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“None sir. Just writing music and playing. I’m starting a band, and I have big plans,” Nikki responds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well boy, I hate to break it to you, but 95% percent of the bands that start, will never see their name upon a marquee. You need a back-up plan, young man. Something to fall back on when the band doesn’t work out. There are lots of fine career choices available, not to mention the military. Right, Tommy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, we’ve already discussed this. I don’t want to go into the military,” Tommy grumbles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Son, you really need to think about it more. I firmly believe that it’s every young man’s civic duty to enlist. That goes for you too, Nicholas.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir, but I already know what I’m going to do,” Nikki replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In 5 or 10 years from now, you will probably wish that you took my advice when you find yourself penniless and out of work. The military pays for your college tuition after you serve. It’s the smart way to go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Nikki says, going back to focus on his food.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, don’t tell my friends what’s best for them. You don’t know. And I personally am not interested in hand to hand combat with communists.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom! You will not talk to me in that tone during dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I get anyone seconds?” Voula butts in, changing the subject.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No thanks!” Athena says, shoving her plate away, dramatically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have seconds, mom,” Tommy requests.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too, dear,” Mr. Bass says, lightening up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nicholas?” Mrs. Bass asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No thank you,” Nikki says, not remembering what his Nona told him about having seconds when he’s a guest at someone’s house. Is it rude to decline? Or is it pushy to want more? Or it is just that you should never ask for seconds yourself without being prompted. Fuck. Maybe he just insulted her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? There’s plenty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since you insist, yes ma’am I’ll have more,” Nikki says, feeling relief. He’s not a fan of this family table etiquette. Frankly, it’s exhausting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is driving Nikki home after dinner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, sorry about my dad. He gets in these moods sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine. At least you have one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well…. He shouldn’t have asked about that either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta expect it. I just don’t need to share details is all,” Nikki says, shrugging, as he lights up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess, but I still feel badly. My dad’s a little on the old-fashion side about some things.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, it seems to me that you haven’t told your parents about starting the band with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I’m working up to it. Things are so busy with marching band, that I thought that it might be best to wait until after it’s over. You obviously know now that it’s not going to go over so well, so the less I have on my plate the better. I already told my mom that I’m probably not doing marching band again. So hopefully that won’t come as a shock.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the last game is this Friday, so you better start rehearsing what you’re going to say.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does</span>
  <em>
    <span> your</span>
  </em>
  <span> mom know?” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom doesn’t give a shit about anything I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh." Tommy takes a breath. "Hey Nikki?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s OK. Like, I’m not upset about it or anything, but I’m just wondering why we don’t ever go to your house?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damn. Nikki knew Tommy would ask this at some point. “I’m not opposed to it. It’s just that, well….. I have a strained relationship with my mother, and she’s a bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom is too, sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not the same, Tommy. Your mom can be bitchy. Mine is just a straight-up bitch. There’s a difference. But you can still come over some day. Like maybe this weekend. My mom is tired during the week after work, so the weekends are better.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? OK, that would be good. I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have much. Lots of books and shit. Some knives. I have a few records, but no equipment to play them on. But, you can at least see where I lay my head I guess. The house is kind of small.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, I wouldn’t care if you were in a one bedroom apartment. It doesn’t matter to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a rental. We only got it through the help of my aunt and uncle who live in L.A. As a matter of fact, that’s where my mom works. Like some entry-level secretarial position at my uncle’s record company.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck! You have an uncle in the record business?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. he gives me magazines and demos on cassette. I do have a little cassette player. I can play you some of the demo tapes. There’s some good ones. Hopefully my tape player won’t eat them. It’s been known to do that. It’s why I don’t bother trying to buy cassettes. It will be a waste. I need that stereo.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hear you. You think your uncle can help us?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I want to get some songs recorded and play them for him some day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Well, I guess having an actual band together and playing and shit, would have to come first.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of, have you talked to Vince yet?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, um he’s always running his mouth about whatever everytime I see him, and then the bell rings.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he get his ass beaten by his parents for having the party?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so, but he’s fucking grounded like forever,” Tommy snickers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How long is his forever? We can’t wait forever?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t really know. Like it’s actually probably 2 or 3 weeks. He’s the one that makes it sound like it’s forever because it’s going to curtail his ability to go out and fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heh heh, so Cindy might move on to the next victim.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t surprise me. Vince told me though that his mom is gushing about his singing. Something like because Vince’s grandmother was a singer, and now her son is singing. She’s just beside herself with glee. That’s probably what spared him the severe ass beating.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess that’s good. Maybe she won’t be so down on Vince if he wants to join the band.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, true. And what about Mick? Have you talked to him again? Is he definitely in?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s in because he liked what I showed him on the guitar at the party, but I’m a fucking moron, I never got his phone number.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask Cindy?” Tommy laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about you ask her? She’s either gonna slap the shit out of me or fuck me. I’m not in the mood for either, lately.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heh, you should call up and ask for Cathy. She’s the one who would have Mick’s number. Cindy would shit her little lacy panties over that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I should. That might be quite entertaining. Anyway, thanks for driving me home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy leans over to try to kiss Nikki. Nikki puts his hand out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not here, buddy. She’s usually not home when you drop me off, but it’s later than usual because of dinner. She’s home now, and she might be watching. She’s a sneak.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well so is my mom. They all are,” Tommy says, retreating back to the driver’s seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Nikki smiles. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can come over again if you want to. And well, there’s the last game on Friday too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We should go to another club afterwards,” Nikki suggests.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Check out the competition.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Friday, after the last game. They lost, which was unusual for this season.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feranna! I want to see you before you hit the showers,” the coach calls out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki thinks he’s going to be reamed out. He had a penalty called on him for unnecessary roughness for throwing his helmet; at someone’s face. The penalty loss of yardage, may have abetted in their defeat. “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That penalty was bullshit. I told you to keep your helmet put.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. I lost my temper.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, kid. You have a lot of learning and growing to do. You need to realize that you just can’t break rules because you’re having a hissy fit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But that’s why I joined the team, sir; so that I’d have an outlet for my anger.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, son. I see a real get-go in your eyes. A determination to conquer. But, you gotta work on the discipline of following orders. It will do you some good. That’s what you focus on next year. If you learn to balance all of those things, you’ll go places.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK, thanks, and sorry.” Nikki says, ready to walk away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feranna!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Nikki says, turning back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m all too familiar with the type of life that you live. Been there myself. I still feel effects from it. It’s why I’m taking an extended leave of absence from my job. I’m leaving in a few weeks, Nikki, now that the season is over. I’m not sure if I’ll be back next year. I’m going to rehab. I’m going to straighten my life out. My wife and kids are suffering. The holidays are a rough time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki swallows hard. It’s a sudden let-down. As much as this coach has been riding his ass all season, it was someone who believed in him, and recognized traits beyond his tough exterior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. I… uh…. I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki, I don’t expect you to know what to say. Just promise me that you’ll stay the course and lay off the drugs. Take my advice. I see something special in you kid. You done good this season.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki nods. He doesn’t know what to say. What does a kid know about rehab and raising a family. “I will, Coach Timmins.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Head up, Feranna! And practice keeping that helmet on!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Nikki replies, throwing back a brave smile, as he turns towards the locker rooms. He takes his #6 jersey off for the last time. He won’t be returning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I gave a nod to Bob Timmins (the band's drug and alcohol counselor), by assigning his name to the coach. </p>
<p>The scene was added in after I completed the book. After receiving some interesting feedback regarding Nikki and his coach when I began uploading the early chapters, I realized I missed an opportunity to further blossom that relationship between Nikki and his coach. There were a few other beefed up coach scenes, in prior chapters, which weren't originally there. This is the beginning of a series of let downs and losses from guiding figures that Nikki begins to experience. The coach called him son. He bristled at the term at first. I'd like to believe that it grew on him throughout the season. But now.... that's done.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. TV and Violence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy spends an afternoon at Nikki's house, where he gets a heavy dose of Nikki's homelife.</p><p>‐---------------</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: violence</p><p>TV and Violence was an early consideration for the title of the album that ultimately became Shout at the Devil. There was a song by that name to. Never recorded as far as I know.</p><p>‐------------</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Saturday, late afternoon.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey mom?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Deana replies, looking up from her Harper’s Bazaar magazine.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m having a friend come over soon. We’re going to work on music together and listen to some of the demo cassettes that Uncle Don sent to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fine. I’m going out tonight around 7. Stay out of the liquor cabinet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Got my own, mom,” Nikki smirks.</p><p> </p><p>Deana just gives him a hard glare.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy arrives roughly a half hour later. Nikki intercepts him on the front porch.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey man. Glad you could make it,” Nikki says, slapping his hand together with Tommy’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I wanted to come over sooner, but my dad got on this kick about needing to show me how to change a tire. I told him that I already knew, but he insisted that I needed a refresher.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a fucking blast. Um, come on in. My mom seems to be in a stable mood. Thankfully, she’s going out tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>They enter the house, and Nikki shuts the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, this is my friend Tommy, from school.”</p><p> </p><p>Deana stands up, and extends her hand in a dainty manner to shake. “Tommy. How wonderful to meet you. I wasn’t aware that Nikki had a friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy crinkles his brow. “Uh, I’m just one of them.”</p><p> </p><p>Deana sighs, and takes hold of a tress of Tommy’s hair, followed by a tsk. “You must be in the remedial classes with my son. I find that most of the young men with long hair are just not cut out for a proper education.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy wants to defend himself, yet on the other hand, he might offend Nikki doing so. “Ma’am, there are a lot of guys in the school with long hair. Some are in honors class. It’s just a preference.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. Back when I was your age, the boys were dressed cleanly and all had proper hair cuts. But, who am I to judge? Perhaps I need to be more up on the trends of today’s young people. Wouldn’t you say?” Deana says in a calculated tone, with a contrived smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus had long hair,” Nikki says to his mom, pointing to the crucifix hanging on the wall.</p><p> </p><p>“That leads me to believe that Lucifer also must have had long hair, Nikki darling.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki flashes devil horns towards his mom, followed by the middle finger as she turns her back.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on. I’ll show you my room.”</p><p> </p><p>The pair scramble upstairs. They get to Nikki’s room and he slams the door shut.</p><p> </p><p>“Dang, Nikki. Yeah, your mom is a little um….. How do I say it…”</p><p> </p><p>“A fucking cunt?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um well, I wasn’t going to say that, but you can,” Tommy shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m used to it. I deal with her. I’m hoping to move out soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy just hums, not knowing what to say. “Sooo, this is your room,” Tommy says, looking around, his eyes landing on Nikki’s bed; a place that he’s tried to envision many times.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Messy, I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just clothes. My mom makes me clean my room weekly,” Tommy says.</p><p> </p><p>“And my mom only complains about mine, but doesn’t make me do shit about it, like she should.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! So, show me those tapes.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki gets down on his belly to reach for a shoe box under his bed. “Grab my cassette player. It’s on top of my dresser. There’s an outlet to the left of my dresser.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki scoots the tapes out, and Tommy prepares the tape player. “Here. Look through and tell me what you want to hear. Most of them are no name bands.” Nikki picks a cassette up. “This group actually started to gain a little traction.”</p><p> </p><p>“Duran Duran? What the hell does that mean?” Tommy questions.</p><p> </p><p>“The fuck should I know? I don’t really like their demo. It’s like New Wave, which is some shitty soft rock pop stuff that seems to be on the up and up. But maybe you want to hear it, in case they get big,” Nikki says, sifting through the cassettes. “Oh, and this one. This is actually an old demo tape from The Sweet. This is like one of my favorite possessions. I love Brian Connolly.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s sick, man! You actually have one of their demos!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, the problem is, I can’t listen to it. This shitty cassette player likes to chew up my tapes. I can’t take the risk of this getting eaten. Can’t wait to get something quality to play these on.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy selects a random tape from the box, and they start listening and critiquing, oh and a little kissing too. About 90 minutes later, Deana knocks on the door.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Nikki blares.</p><p> </p><p>“Open the door!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s unlocked.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki’s mom opens the door forceful enough that the doorknob slams into the drywall, causing it to chip.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not fixing that,” Nikki says.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll discuss that later. I’m on my way out. I expect the house to stay clean, no one else is to come over, and keep your grubby hands off of the liquor,” Deana says, dressed in a tight skirt and a fitted turtleneck, lined nylons, and heels.</p><p> </p><p>“Told you I got my own,” Nikki says, reaching under his bed to pull out a bottle of whiskey.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’d you get that?” Deana says, tapping her foot.</p><p> </p><p>“From my ass,” Nikki says, with a snarky grin, obviously showing off in front of Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need any drunken assholes in my house tonight!” Deana shouts, pointing her finger nervously at Nikki. He’s showing her up, and she knows it. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to worry about us, but I guess <b>you</b> shouldn’t come home tonight then,” Nikki says, still grinning.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy clenches his teeth together, trying with all of his might not to even show a hint of a smile. He’s also stunned at Nikki’s talk back to his mom.</p><p> </p><p>She’s at a loss of what to do or say, not daring to smack him in front of Tommy. She slams his door shut, and stomps down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Why your eyes so big?” Nikki asks Tommy, who’s staring at him wide-eyed.</p><p> </p><p>“If I talked to my mom like that, I don’t think that I’d see the light of day. That was bogue!”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s behaving because you’re here. Believe me, man, if you weren’t I’d be hurting.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy isn’t quite sure who the instigator is. Maybe it’s both? “She lets you drink? I mean, I can have tastes of stuff, but if I were caught with a bottle in my room, I’d be fucked.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki shrugs. “That’s the root of it all. She doesn’t care, and she should. A good mother would put a stop to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I guess. Hmm so, is she gone? Where’s she going?” Tommy cracks a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s gone. Probably out to meet someone at a bar, or pick someone up.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy bites his lip.</p><p> </p><p>“You wanna do something?” Nikki asks, with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I don’t know. I do, but I…. um. I like kissing you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like it too. You set the pace, Tommy. I’m patient. I know this is brave, new territory for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get there. I mean, I think about stuff all of the time. It’s just that I’m still trying to come to terms with what I really want. Does that make any sense?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, man. Come here,” Nikki says, holding his hand out.</p><p> </p><p>The pair make out, necking and kissing for quite some time. Tommy finally has the nerve to lay himself on top of Nikki, who promptly opens his legs so that the drummer can more easily press against him.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy feels Nikki’s hard erection through both pairs of their jeans. He wants so badly to go further, but he knows he’s not ready. Doesn’t matter anyway, the intense feeling he was getting by rubbing his hard cock against Nikki’s already caused him to cum in his pants. He tries not to let on, stifling his heavy breathing, and going back to Nikki’s neck as a distraction, as Nikki is still bucking his hips against Tommy. But Tommy can’t help but to relax and soften his frame on Nikki’s. The come down is satisfying too.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki suspects that Tommy has already hit a peak, and backs off from the action. He rubs his back with one hand, and strokes his hair with the other, planting soft kisses on the spent drummer.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy starts to curl in against Nikki, adjusting his top position to more of a side angle, one arm wrapped tightly around Nikki’s torso.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey? Wanna go watch TV downstairs? We can lay on the couch together.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy picks his head up, and nods yes, leaning back in to kiss Nikki’s lips.</p><p> </p><p>“I just need to use the bathroom,” Tommy says, getting himself to a sitting position.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s right down the hallway. You’ll see it,” Nikki says, smiling as Tommy walks out. He knows that he’s going in to clean his mess up. Nikki decides to change into sweatpants to be more comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“Yo, dude! I’m going to the bathroom downstairs. I’ll meet you on the couch,” Nikki says, with a rap on the bathroom door.</p><p> </p><p>“OK!” Tommy yells back.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki needs to finish himself off.</p><p> </p><p>-------------------------</p><p> </p><p>They meet on the couch, and watch some shitty programming, talk, raid the kitchen, drink, and kiss some more until Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert comes on at 11:30pm. </p><p> </p><p>“This is one of the only worthwhile shows on TV. I don’t really watch much of anything else,” Nikki says.</p><p> </p><p>“I like it too, but I get sucked into some of the sitcoms, I guess. I watch the Six Million Dollar Man.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to be the <em> Six(x) </em>Million Dollar Man in a few years. You too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Tommy smiles, spooning against Nikki on the couch, nestling closer into him.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki pulls Tommy in closer against his body, wrapping his arm snuggly against him, and fluffing up the throw pillow that their heads are leaning on. </p><p> </p><p>About a half hour into the show, Tommy nods off. Nikki decides that he’ll watch the show ‘til the end, then wake Mr. Adorable up so he can head home; only he winds up falling asleep too, cozied up together on the couch.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------</p><p> </p><p>Around 1am, the front door slams shut, startling both Nikki and Tommy awake.</p><p> </p><p>“I always knew that my son was an ungrateful asshole, but now I see that he’s also a faggot,” Deana sneers, gritting her teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom! I wasn’t doing anything,” Nikki says, getting to a sitting position, as Tommy moves off of him and towards the other side of the couch.</p><p> </p><p>Deana charges over to the couch, forcefully squeezes Nikki face in her hand as she pushes his head back against the couch. “Listen you little fag, don’t you dirty up my living room and my house with your perverted actions.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t tell me that you had a fag son, Deana. It’s not something I take kind to,” a male voice with a languid drawl sounds out in the darkness near the door.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki shoves his mother’s hands away, and turns to Tommy. “You should go. Let me walk you out.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy just nods, too uneasy to even speak. The pair cautiously make their way to the door, both eyeballing the burly stranger as they step past him. Tommy just picks up his boots that were near the door, not bothering to put them on, and they step outside onto the porch.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to be alright? I’m sorry that I--”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. I’m used to this. I’ll be fine,” with a forced cool cat look upon his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should just come with me,” Tommy pleads, sensing something bad is going to go down.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki considers it in his head, knowing that he’s probably going to get his ass beaten, but he thinks that he just needs to face this now. His cassette tapes and notebooks are sitting out in his room. Nikki fears that if he doesn’t let his mother take out her anger on him now, that she’ll resort to destroying his stuff. She’s done it before. He’d rather sacrifice himself than his favorite possessions. Bruises heal. Other things are irreplaceable.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, it’s fine. I know how to handle her. She gets mad. Yells at me. Gets it all out, and then it’s done. OK? Go home,” Nikki says, daring to place a peck on Tommy’s lips, as he nudges Tommy towards the steps. Tommy steps down off the porch, still holding his shoes, not breaking eye contact with Nikki. “See you tomorrow,” Nikki whispers with his trademark grin, before reentering the house, shutting the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy is afraid. Afraid for Nikki. He needs to make sure he’s OK. He steps aways towards the side of the house into the darkness, where he can’t be seen. He puts his boots on. He can hear voices from inside. Not quite yelling, but elevated.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki, once back inside, tries to take a step towards the stairs, but is blocked and grabbed by his collar.</p><p> </p><p>“Where you going, fag boy? Yer not done with your mama yet,” the stranger says. “I think that she’s got some things to say to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take your hand off me,” Nikki demands, forcefully removing the man’s hand off his shirt. “This isn’t your fucking business.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is when you make yer pretty mama feel distressed. Yer ruining our night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki, how could you?” Deana says, drawing near to his face. “I never thought that my son could be such a filthy piece of trash. This disgusting behavior can only come from your trash father. The man who couldn’t give me ordinary children. The man whose seed produced rejects! I don’t know what I did to deserve such a foul brood from him!” she wails in melodramatic fashion, dropping her face in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki jams his finger into his mother’s shoulder, “Say what you want about me, but don’t talk about my sister like that,” Nikki growls, lowly.</p><p> </p><p>The man grabs Nikki’s hand, and punches him in the face with his other hand, “You get your tainted hands off of your mother!”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki pulls his hand away, and shoves the man back.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you that this isn’t your business!” Stay out of it, motherfucker!”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki’s mother then slaps him hard across the face. “You watch your mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>The man charges towards Nikki, and starts throwing more punches, and one to his stomach, which doubles him over. The man takes advantage of Nikki’s weakened state, and slams him up against the wall, and forces his pants down.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you that I don’t take kindly to faggots, and Imma gonna teach you a lesson gay boy,” the man threatens, as he attempts to force Nikki towards the couch dragging him there, to bend him over the arm, leaning his weight on him, as he tries to undo his own pants.</p><p> </p><p>“No! No! Don’t do that to my baby, Stan!” Deana screams, rushing towards them, pulling at his arm. </p><p> </p><p>The man backhands Nikki’s mom, and she stumbles back, landing on the ground. </p><p> </p><p>Releasing his hand off of Nikki to slap Deana, gave Nikki the chance to get out from underneath the man’s other hand. He got a few steps away, quickly pulled his pants back up, and sacks the guy.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep your hands off my mother!” Nikki screeches, grabbing the man’s collar, landing a punch in the guy’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Only the man is stronger and fueled with alcohol. He’s able to gain the upper hand again, and just unleashes a series of blows to Nikki.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy, still standing outside, hears things escalating. He hears Deana wailing and screaming. He can’t make out words, but something bad is happening. He’s terrified to go back in, but he has to. He opens the door, he sees Nikki crumbled up on the floor. The man hovering over him; Deana pleading for him to stop. Tommy goes into autopilot. He takes a few steps in and kicks the man in the face, causing him to fall back. He then scrambles to get over him, and starts to pound him in the face with his angry fist. Three punches.</p><p> </p><p>The guy holds his face in his hands, and rolls over to his side, moaning. Tommy sees blood pooling underneath him, and figures the deed is done. </p><p> </p><p>He moves over to Nikki, who’s trying to get himself to a sitting position, while Deana sits on the floor crying into her hands. Tommy sees that his entire face is covered in blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Nikki. Let me help you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good,” Nikki says, futilely trying to wipe blood off his face with his arm. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy stands, and attempts to also get Nikki to a standing position. “Come on. You need help. I know where to go.”</p><p> </p><p>As Tommy is tugging on him, Nikki scoots closer to his mother. “Mom? Are you OK? You should--”</p><p> </p><p>“Get out,” she seethes.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, let me help you--”</p><p> </p><p>“I said get out!! Get out of my house, faggot, along with your faggot friend!!” Deana screeches.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki backs away, finally taking Tommy’s persistent help to pull him up off the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s gonna hurt you again! Can’t you see that!?” Nikki yells back.</p><p> </p><p>“Leave, Nikki. Just leave,” She says, sobbing again. “I don’t want you here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go,” Tommy says, helping Nikki towards the door, not bothering to grab his shoes or jacket.</p><p> </p><p>He leads him to the passenger side door of his van, and helps him in. Tommy gets in on the other side.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna bring you somewhere safe,” Tommy says, with tears in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Just drive,” Nikki says, sobbing into his own hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki, it’s gonna be OK. I’m gonna get you help.”</p><p> </p><p>“It hurts….. I’m hurt,” Nikki chokes out, shaking and sputtering blood.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy pats the bench seat. “Lay down, put your head by me.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki eases himself down on the seat. Tommy strokes his dark hair with his bloody-knuckled right hand, only taking his hand away to shift gears when needed.</p><p> </p><p>“I shouldn’t have left you. I should have insisted that you come with me. I didn’t know, Nikki. I didn’t know you were going to get hurt like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m getting blood on your seat,” is all Nikki can say.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care. It’s gonna be alright.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy makes it back to his house in record time, partially because there’s no traffic this time of night.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on. I’m gonna help you in,” Tommy says, gathering a battered Nikki up again, in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>He unlocks his front door, and ushers Nikki inside. “Stay quiet, OK? I’m bringing you up to my room.”</p><p> </p><p>The pair make it upstairs, and Tommy orders Nikki to lie on his bed. “I’ll be right back,” Tommy says, stroking the messy black hair and kissing the side of his head.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy pulls his bedroom door shut quietly, and tiptoes into his parents’ bedroom. He squats down on his mother’s side of the bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mom,” Tommy says, in a low whisper. “Mom.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s startled awake and picks her head up. “Tommy,” she says alarmed.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy immediately shushes her, and motions with his hand to keep it down.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, what’s wrong,” she whispers, she can see his face wet with tears, moonlight streaming in from the window, reflecting off of them..</p><p> </p><p>“I need your help, please. Don’t wake dad, please mom,” Tommy whispers very quietly, desperation written all over his face.</p><p> </p><p>Voula gets up, and puts her robe and slippers on. Once they’re down the hallway a few feet, she asks quietly if he’s OK.</p><p> </p><p>“Not really. I need your help.”</p><p> </p><p>They get to Tommy’s door, and before he opens it, he says, “Mom, Nicholas needs help. He got beat up and he looks bad. I didn’t know where to go. You can help him.”</p><p> </p><p>She opens Tommy’s door, and let’s out an audible gasp when she sees bloody Nikki on Tommy’s bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh, please mom. Don’t wake dad up. We just need you.”</p><p> </p><p>She walks over to Nikki to survey his injuries.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy opens his mouth, but is suddenly not sure if Nikki will get angry if he says anything. Before he can utter a thing, Nikki says, “It was my mom’s boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mother’s boyfriend beat you up?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki nods.</p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t do anything wrong, mom. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do,” Tommy says, sobbing.</p><p> </p><p>“Was your mom home, Nicholas?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki nods again.</p><p> </p><p>“Does she know he did this?”</p><p> </p><p>“She knows,” Nikki says, tears falling from his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, get me the first aid kit, some clean washcloths, a bowl of warm water, a clean towel and t-shirt, and my salve.”</p><p> </p><p>“OK. Be right back. OK?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy tries to quickly gather these things. He knew his mom would help. She always was able to make him feel better, and take care of his wounds. Within a few minutes, he’s back with the requested items.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. Now go down to the kitchen, and put the kettle on. Get the Ouzo from the liquor cabinet. When the water gets to a simmer, take a teacup and put in about this much water,” Voula says, holding her thumb and finger out as a measured guide. “Then put the same amount of Ouzo in. Bring it up on a saucer, love. Plus the ice pack with ice in it.”</p><p> </p><p>“OK, mom. And thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles at him, as he leaves again.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy paces as he waits for the kettle to simmer. He’s had this concoction a few times. It’s one of his mom’s home remedies, passed down through the generations. It’s supposed to have calming and numbing effects. Truth or placebo, Tommy never knew. He disliked the strong licorice taste of the liquor. But despite that, whatever witch’s brew his mother made him take, he usually felt better afterwards. Maybe it was just mother’s love that made him feel better; something Nikki doesn’t have.</p><p> </p><p>The mixture is ready, as well as the ice pack. Tommy goes upstairs, and sets the items down on his nightstand. He hears his mom talking in Greek; no idea what she’s saying. He looks at Nikki. His mom already wiped most of the blood off of his face. He can see the injuries more clearly. His skin is split open above his eyebrow, a few bloody contusions, a busted lip, and a black eye forming. Plus he’s holding a wad of tissues on his nose. Voula takes the ice pack and lays it on the right side of his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, is he going to be OK?” Tommy asks, tears forming again.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s going to be OK, honey. Dump this bowl, and get me more clean water and another clean cloth. Then why don’t you wait downstairs. It will be easier on you.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy takes the water in the bathroom and pours it down the sink, sickened to see the red tinted water swirling down the drain. He returns with the fresh items, sets them down, and goes downstairs. He turns the TV on low, but most of the channels are signed off for the night, except for some documentary on Tudor-style English cottages. Tommy tries to watch it, but is really only staring into nothing; replaying the events in his head over and over, and wishing he had done something differently to prevent it.</p><p> </p><p>About 30 minutes later, Voula quietly comes downstairs with the teacup and saucer and the bowl in hand. Tommy shuts the TV off, and follows her into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he OK?”<br/><br/></p><p>“He’s asleep, love.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods, feeling some relief, pulling a chair out to sit at the kitchen dinette table.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. He needed help.”</p><p> </p><p>“You did the right thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, I didn’t know. I didn’t know that someone could do that to a kid. His mother…. she…. she instigated it. She called him names, and I didn’t know he lived like that,” Tommy cries. “And then she just let that bully boyfriend wreck him.”</p><p> </p><p>“It probably happens to people more often than you realize. It’s an unfortunate reality.”</p><p> </p><p>“How can people be so cruel?” Tommy says, laying his head in his arms on the tables, sobbing.</p><p> </p><p>His mother sits next to him, and rubs his back, taking notice of the blood on his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy picks his head up, holding it up with his injured hand. “He’s so smart, mom. Did you know that he reads Shakespeare just for pleasure. And he’s so driven. That band he talked about, I know he’s gonna make it. He will if he can just survive her.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s lucky that he has you as a friend. You’re supportive of each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mom? Can I tell you something?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nicholas… well, he doesn’t actually like that name and doesn’t use it. He goes by Nikki…… Mom, <b>he’s </b>my Nikki.”</p><p> </p><p>Voula smiles. “Tommy, I know. I realized that the first time you brought him home. It was written all over your face.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” She shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy takes a deep, shaky breath, two tears rolling down each side of his face. “I don’t know, mom. I tried to not…. I tried to be like everybody else. I tried, and….. I just tried so hard to change it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, you’ll soon realize that each of us are dealt a hand of cards through life. Some cards are good and some are not, while others are just puzzling. We need to do our very best to always play the card the right way, and figure how it’s going to help you win at your game of life. You, and your father and sister were my best dealt cards. I had some bad ones with five pregnancy losses. And a puzzling card, of how to make the best of my life here in America instead of in Greece, which I miss terribly. It hasn’t always been easy. Nor has it been for your father. You can see that Nicholas has been given some really tough cards. You’ll figure things out, son. You’re smart too. I have such faith in you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you upset?”</p><p> </p><p>“Upset isn’t the right word. I want my children to live full and happy lives, and I know that you might have to endure some really difficult things along the way, and I wish that you wouldn’t have to. I wish that it was going to be easy for you. Just promise me that you’ll always keep your head up and persist.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will mom. Are you going to tell dad?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll leave that in your hands, Tommy. And speaking of hands… come, get up. I need to clean your hand. Go to the sink,” Voula insists. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um.... I just lost it when I saw Nikki being beaten, and I… well, I put a stop to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Run it under the faucet. I’ll get my salve.”</p><p> </p><p>--------------------</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, Tommy’s hand is bandaged up with another home remedy smeared on the abrasions under the bandages. A healing salve that his mother swears by, containing olive oil, beeswax, and oregano extract. Something he hasn’t had smeared on him in a long time. The herb makes it smell like pizza. It makes him feel safe, like when he was a little kid getting a scraped knee patched up.</p><p> </p><p>“Should I sleep down here?” Tommy asks, motioning towards the couch.</p><p> </p><p>“Go see your friend, love. Don’t wake him, and be careful of his ribs on his right side. They’re tender. The ice pack is positioned on his ribs. Don’t take it off of him. If anything, it might fall off while he sleeps.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods, tears forming again.</p><p> </p><p>“Love you, mom,” Tommy says, turning towards her to hug tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy goes upstairs to his room. The small desk lamp is on. He approaches Nikki; his heart swells. His tough exterior has been torn away, and he finds himself staring at a hurt kid who just needs love. Tommy sits on the floor, right in front of Nikki, and softly rolls tresses of Nikki’s hair between his fingers, so as to not wake him up. He just sits and stares at his battered, yet still beautiful Nikki, as tears slide down his face.</p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, after changing into sleepwear, Tommy crawls over Nikki, careful not to nudge him nor the lump that’s the ice pack on his sore ribs, underneath the covers. He puts himself between Nikki and the wall. It’s a little tight, but there’s no place that he’d rather be. Nikki is underneath his bedspread, so Tommy just pulls the foot blanket up over himself. He lies on his side, and gently nestles into Nikki’s backside. He smells like pizza too. Tommy closes his eyes, and knows that Nikki is safe here.</p><p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12 - Looks That Kill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Upon realizing that the drummer is next to him in bed, Nikki cracks a smile. Tommy smiles back. </p>
<p>‐-------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning sunlight begins to stream through the slits of the drawn curtains in Tommy’s room. The beams wake Tommy up. It only takes him a moment to remember that Nikki is there beside him and why. He has shifted onto his back from his side in his sleep. Tommy puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder to stir him; eager to wake him up to make sure that he’s OK.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki blinks his eyes open, and brings his hand to his face to rub it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Tommy says in a whisper, gently pulling Nikki’s hand away from his face. “Careful there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon realizing that the drummer is next to him in bed, he cracks a smile. Tommy smiles back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How are you feeling?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki stretches with somewhat of a pained look on his face. “Sore. Kinda feels like I got hit by a car. I got a headache. Last night was a bit of a blur for me, but I remember enough to know that your mom fixed me up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re looking good, Nikki,” Tommy smiles, stroking his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can imagine. I know that I’m not going to win any beauty pageants,” Nikki sighs. “I’m sorry that you had to see that last night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know, Nikki,” Tommy says, his smiling fading. “I’m just glad that I stuck around to get you out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, welcome to my life,” Nikki says, looking away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy looks concerned. “Has this happened before?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Many times. Different guys. I get it occasionally from her; more so just smacks or things thrown at me. I think this was the worst time though.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think it’s the worst time? Like that’s even something you have to ponder? My god, why? I don’t understand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s something wrong with her, Tommy. I don’t know. She just never seemed to want me around, and I was more or less just in her way; like cramping her style. It’s why I spent so much time with my grandparents. She just left me with them. Sometimes for months. No phone call. Nothing. She didn’t want me. Neither did my dad. And I figure that she must complain about me to her boyfriends and dates. Either that, or she just has a knack for attracting assholes who like to shove me around. I know they hit her sometimes too. It bothers me a lot more than it bothers her when they hit me. She just allows it to happen. I don’t know how she can stand by and watch me get….” Nikki sighs, as a tear rolls down his cheek. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Been happening since I was a little kid. There've been a few nice ones though. One of them taught me how to play guitar, and he let me keep the guitar. It was broken, but I can make it work. I have to. It’s all I got,” Nikki says, trying to perk himself up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Nikki. I just can’t imagine what things have been like for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s why I love music and books so much. They’re my escape, and they take me on journeys to faraway places. I’m always on a mind trip. It’s also why I drink and dabble in drugs. More mind trips and numbing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want you to stay here. I can talk to my parents. I mean, at least until you heal, and then we can see.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki nods, and another tear runs down his face. “Aside from my grandparents and my sister, no one ever cared about me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I care, and my mom cares,” Tommy says, with a reassuring smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks for bringing me here. Your mom took good care of me. I told her that I liked her accent, and asked if she could talk to me in Greek to distract me from the pain. She told me a few stories. Coulda been smutty stories for all I know,” Nikki snickers. “And then she knocked me the fuck out with some sort of warm spiked drink. I chugged it. I don’t think I was supposed to based on the look on her face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, you’re not. You sip it,” Tommy laughs. “Yeah, I’ve had that shit before,” he scrunches his nose. “You know, she let me come up here with you. Um... I told her about us last night. It just came out. I was upset, and it seemed like the right moment. I’m sorry. I know that it means she knows about you too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>”What’d she say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just some advice about working through difficult things. She said she knew…. like because of the way I’ve been acting around you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What about you dad?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy shakes his head no. “And my mom said it’s up to me when I want to tell him. I know he won’t handle it well like her. That’s not anything that I plan on doing soon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you OK? I know that you’re having a hard time accepting it yourself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy shrugs. “I still feel defective. I don’t know how you handle it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You shouldn’t feel that way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But, when I’m with you, I feel… well, I feel…. Alive,” Tommy says, taking a fulfilling breath. “I’m sorry that I got you into trouble last night. You know, if I was a girl, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you that it wasn’t your fault. It was theirs, OK? Your mom didn’t beat you after revealing that you’re gay because she’s a decent human being. My mom is messed up, man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t tell her I was gay. I kind of said that I liked you,” Tommy says, sitting up, crossed legged on the bed, his back against the wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on, Tom. She knows what that means. And she didn’t scream faggot in your face or ask you to leave with me, your faggot friend,” Nikki fires back, recalling his mother’s harsh response from last night. “Your mom helped me, knowing what we are to each other.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki, I’m just not ready to wear that title. It’s not just your mom and that guy. There’s so many people out there. They want to hurt us or make fun. I’m not ready for that, and I don’t want to think about it, and it makes me wish that I didn’t feel differently than everyone else. Except that, then I wouldn’t know you the way that I know you, and I never want to lose that. You’re the only thing would make this all worth it,” Tommy says, covering his eyes with his hand. “I think that I just said too much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki sees his friend struggling; still trying to come to terms. To ease his apprehension and worry, Nikki takes hold of Tommy’s palm. “What happened to your hand?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy cracks a smile. “I lost all control when I saw what that guy did to you, and then I beat the living shit out of that asshole.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’d he look like after?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Picture someone’s face gurgling in a pool of blood.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki cocks his slanted grin. “Thanks. You came to my rescue. More than you know it,” Nikki says, taking into his own consideration that the guy still could have been planning to rape him. He doesn’t want to share that with Tommy. It will only frighten him and upset more. He pulls him in for a kiss. Tommy freezes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong? My lip?” Nikki says, brushes his finger along the swollen lump. “Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I…. I mean, well, yes kinda. But, no, I have morning breath. I should go brush my teeth.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki laughs, wincing a little as his ribs hurt. “Tommy, do me a favor. Name all of the holes you have on your body.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just do it. Go ahead…. your morning breath mouth is one, right?” Nikki says, laying his finger on Tommy’s bottom lip. “What else?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My nose?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Nikki says, smiling, touching the tip of his nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My ears?” Tommy looks to Nikki for affirmation. “Do my eyes count? What is this? Why are you asking me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They can count, I guess. Come on, a few more more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, well my dick and my ass? I don’t get this. Is my navel a hole?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not really, but I’ll count it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy looks quizzically at Nikki for an explanation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Baby….. my tongue would be more than happy to explore any one of those holes on your body at <em> any </em> time. Morning breath ain’t gonna scare me off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy has a visceral shiver of excitement crawl up his spine as a stuttered breath slips from his lips. He gulps, and tries to arrange his hand in a way to cover up his newly formed erection.  “Heh, uh… well, uh…. You got me beat, Nikki. You kinda got an extra hole there. Um see, you kinda got a new hole in your head,” Tommy stammers, pointing to the wound above Nikki’s eyebrow. “Uh, looks like my mom tried to close it with butterfly clasps, but it’s oozing. I should probably go get her to look at it,” he says, straightening his legs out toward the edge of the bed, in preparation to get himself up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get your mom right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not?” Tommy sports a nervous grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki throws back the covers revealing his tented sweatpants. “Maybe it won’t bother her,” Nikki shrugs. “What do you think?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy goes wide-eyed. “Oh, uh… you should um. Fuck, maybe find a way to make it go away before--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know the fastest way to make it go away,” Nikki says, biting his lip. He painfully scoots himself up to lean against the backboard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy sees Nikki struggling to move, and helps by resituating the pillows behind his back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Nikki says, holding his palm out to Tommy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Tommy says, looking at Nikki’s outstretched hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Give me some of your morning breath lube. I see it leaking out of your mouth already.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy turns beet red, as he tries to accumulate a nice collection of saliva in his mouth to deposit onto Nikki’s palm. He dribbles out what he has. Nikki adds his own to it, then pulls down the front of his sweats to take hold of his stiff cock, letting his eyes flutter at the touch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pull ‘em further down for me. It hurts when I lean forward to do it,” Nikki says, referring to his pants, which are impeding his pleasure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy pulls the waist down below Nikki’s package. He’s rendered speechless, and more drool starts pooling in his mouth as he sees Nikki starting the task of cranking himself. God, he’s fucking hot and glorious. He dribbles his new slippery contribution directly onto Nikki’s cock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s what I need, baby,” Nikki groans. He gives himself a firm squeeze to urge out some precum. Nikki wipes the tip of his cock with a finger from his other hand, and brings it before Tommy’s lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Take it, baby,” Nikki with desperation. “Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy grabs hold of Nikki’s outstretched hand, and takes the offered finger into his mouth, wrapping his silken tongue around it. He can’t resist putting his hand down his own pants, to bring himself relief. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s it, Tommy. Feel it with me,” Nikki breathes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy strokes himself, knowing already that this is going to be embarrassingly short-lived.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you hot for me, baby?” Nikki wheezes, licking his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki’s voice was enough to bring Tommy to an early climax. The bassist can feel the drummer shuddering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want it,” Nikki moans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm,” is all that Tommy can reply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy, let me taste you. I need to know,” Nikki says, his hungry tongue lolling around his lips in anticipation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy peeks into his pants, which he kept mostly pulled up, and sees the aftermath inside. He runs two fingers through it, and offers them to Nikki. “Is this what you want?” Tommy asks, not completely sure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki opens his syrupy mouth, as a silent invitation; the tip of his tongue held on his bottom lip waiting for it’s reward. Tommy puts his glistening fingers inside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki moans, pulling his own finger out of Tommy’s mouth to take hold of the drummer’s hand, feeding it in deeper. He <em> devours </em> those fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy loses himself with the sensation of Nikki’s luscious tongue, spinning around each finger almost like a candy cane swirl; biting him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More, baby. I want it all,” Nikki says, wiping up his own drool with his jacking hand, then gripping his erection more firmly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy offers up the rest of what he can get, delivering his fingers back to Nikki’s mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So good, mmmm,” Nikki moans, biting on Tommy’s hand. “You want mine, baby? It’s coming,” Nikki says with an aching groan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy doesn’t know what to do. Does he hold his hand out? His tongue? He’s not sure that he’s ready to take in a full load; he’s only tasted cum of any sort for the first time today. He instinctively takes his shirt off, and holds it in front of Nikki just in time to catch his flow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki moans, and pants, as his cum shoots forth, landing mostly on the shirt and partially on Tommy’s thumb.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki’s chest is heaving. “Take it, baby…. Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy sticks his cum-laden thumb into his mouth, and sucks off Nikki’s nectar from it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki smiles, staring at Tommy in adoration as he breathes through his come down. He’s hurting badly, but doesn’t let on. Every moment was worth it in his opinion. “You can get your mother now, when you’re ready,” Nikki says, tugging his sweats back up, wiping his hands on Tommy’s shirt, then folding the covers back on top of himself. He shuts his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy pulls his fingers out of his mouth,and wipes them off. “OK,” is all he says, as he makes an attempt to stand up. He wads his shirt up, and drops it on the far side of the bed, then scans the area for any other evidence, and picks up the droopy ice pack, not at room temperature.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy takes a shaky step towards his dresser to find a new shirt. He slips on one. “I’ll be right back, OK?” ice pack in hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tom, you’re forgetting something,” Nikki says, opening his eyes back up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit, what’d I miss? Tommy asks, scanning the blankets for previously unseen evidence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You missed me. I want that kiss. That dirty mouth kiss that I asked for before all of this started,” Nikki says, smiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy finally relaxes into his own smile. “Don’t know how I could forget such a thing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy sits on the edge of the bed, and leans in to give Nikki that overdue kiss. It’s sweet and tender, having just laid out their more carnal ambitions earlier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The drummer pulls away, placing his finger on Nikki’s lip contusion. “Gotta be careful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki smiles. “OK. We’ll be careful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it really OK now if I have my mom come up to look at your injuries?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki nods, putting his eyes to rest again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy made a pitstop in the bathroom first to gather himself up, and to make sure that there was no sign of anything on him that would tip his mother off about what just happened. He looks innocent enough; giving himself an affirming nod in the mirror. As he heads downstairs, he knows that his mind is going to be in wonderland later, as he replays the bedroom scene upstairs. God, that was fucking hot. Nikki is certainly going to keep him on his toes. He convinced that he just did a least a dozen things that he’s never done before, and they haven’t even touched each other, much less had sex; which is a subject unto itself for another day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy finds his mom in the kitchen with a book and coffee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mom?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Morning, sweetheart. How’s Nikki?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He slept through the night, and he seems in good spirits, considering…... Um, is dad here? Does he know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Daddy took your sister to church. I stayed home in case you needed me. Dad knows that your friend got beaten up. He doesn’t know the other things that we talked about.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, mom. Thanks for staying home. I know that you hate missing church.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think you can check on him? I saw you put butterfly closures on the injury over his eye, but it’s oozing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not unusual. Let me wash my hands, and grab some things, and I’ll be up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Voula examines the injured teen. She changes some of the bandages. “I think you’ll be just fine, Nikki,” Voula says, pronouncing his name like Neekki.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You called me Nikki.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy told me last night that you prefer it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t mind, I guess. Nikki is better though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to advise you that you may want to have a plastic surgeon look at your brow. It will heal, but will most likely leave a scar if left to heal like this. Plus you have two ribs that are tender and inflamed. That is usually a sign of trauma, like a fracture or deep bruising. You may wish for a doctor to evaluate your ribs. Can you take a deep breath?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki inhales. “It kind of hurts. I’ve broken ribs before. It feels the same. They just healed eventually. I just had to go easy,” Nikki says, rubbing his ribs. “And that wasn’t from a fight. I fell 12 feet from a barn roof, and landed on a fence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You may be the adventurous sort, but you should make sure that you get plenty of rest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If it were me, my mom would make me stay in bed,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It would keep you from reinjuring yourself,” Voula says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d die of boredom.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I had music, notebooks, books, and engaging conversation I’d be good,” Nikki says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, mom?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know what you’re going to ask. I spoke with your father this morning,” Mrs. Bass says. She turns to Nikki. “I’m not sure what you want to do, but we decided together that if you need a safe place to stay while you heal, you can stay here. We have a bed in the spare room near the laundry. It’s not much, and a little cold down there with the tile floor this time of year. And there’s boxes and my ironing board, but you’re welcome to the space. If you need to stay longer, I’d have to discuss that further with Mr. Bass.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, ma’am. I think it would be in my best interest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have house rules that you’ll need to follow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes ma’am. I’ll need to go home though, and get some of my belongings and clothes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can go with him, mom.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think maybe your father should drive him over sometime after church. Only if you’re up to it, Nikki. Although, it might be best to stay in bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can manage. And my mom is generally low-key after incidents like this. I wouldn’t expect her to start anything with me. I should probably check on her too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m still going, even if dad drives,” Tommy says, getting the final word in about that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Perhaps we need to see first if Nikki can even stand and walk without harsh pain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can do it. I’ll just take things slow,” Nikki says.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“We’ll see in a little while,” Voula smiles. “Tommy, get yourself into the shower, and then come down for breakfast. I’ll wrap your hand again, then we’ll start working on the room afterwards, until dad comes home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“OK, mom.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nicholas, I suggest you stay in bed for now. I can bring you up a light breakfast, and then I think you should rest some more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for everything.” Nikki shuts his eyes, not minding this extra pampering and attention one bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Later - </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki got himself up, out of bed. He’s sore. The ribs hurt a lot, but he’s not letting on to anyone else how badly. He figures that they’re going to hurt whether he’s in bed or walking. Doesn’t matter. He’s kind of eager to get some of his things, fearful that his mom might start rooting around his stuff too much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Bass pulls up in front of Nikki’s house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d like to go in alone,” the teen says with a huff of determination.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you feel that’s best, young man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It will be fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe I should wait on your porch,” Mr. Bass suggests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki just nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gets out of the car and enters his house, wearing a pair of Tommy’s boots. There’s no one in the living room. He goes upstairs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a duffle bag in his closet and he starts filling it with his notebooks, his school-related items, cassettes, knives, radio, another pair of shoes, accessories, and clothes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki?” Deana says, standing in the doorframe. He doesn’t respond. “Where are you going?” his mother presses on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Somewhere else,” Nikki says, cramming more clothes into the bag.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t have to leave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I won’t be seeing Stan anymore,” she sniffs her nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m glad, mom,” Nikki says, stuffing socks and underwear in the bag; opening a drawer to grab a few more random things. He zips the bag, throws it onto his shoulder, opposite the injured ribs, with a wince [fuck, that hurts], and goes to step past his mother, guitar and fishing pole in hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki. Won’t you stay? I’ll be alone,” she says, looking down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki stops, and stands in front of her. “Mom, look at me.” Deana doesn’t look up. “Mom! Look at me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She lifts her head. Her tear filled eyes meet Nikki’s battered eyes. “Nikki. I couldn’t stop him. I--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Take care of yourself,” Nikki says, putting his hand to his mother’s face, rubbing his thumb over the bruise on her cheekbone. He leans in to kiss it, steps away, then heads down the stairs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki, don’t leave me,” she cries.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll check in with you sometimes,” Nikki replies without turning around, pulling his jacket off the coat rack, and stooping down to pick up his boots, then he goes out the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He opens the back door of the car, places his things on the seat, and slides in next to them, as Tommy’s dad gets back into the driver’s seat. Nikki’s quiet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you get everything you need,” Mr. Bass asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Most of it,” Nikki sighs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you OK? Did you see your mom?” Tommy asks, turning around to look at him from the front.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki nods. “Funny. She wants me to stay,” Nikki says, with a contrived laugh, immediately followed by a tear down his cheek. “She always does that, you know. Like, acting sorry, but then….” Nikki doesn’t complete the sentence and just shakes his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dad, let’s go home,” Tommy says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you good to go, Nicholas?” Mr. Bass asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She never says she’s sorry. She tries to act like it. But all just for pity. It’s all just for show. She’s never sorry,” Nikki blares out. He takes a deep breath. “We can go….. sorry,” Nikki sinks down a little in the seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy turns back around. He knows Nikki is upset. He feels badly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a few minutes of driving, Nikki fishes his wallet out of his jacket, and opens the bill fold. “Mr. Bass?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t go into the bathroom to get my personal hygiene stuff. Can we stop at a supermarket or pharmacy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I don’t particularly like shopping on Sundays, but I suppose we can make an exception here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy rolls his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They pull into the parking lot of a pharmacy a few minutes later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Bass can see Nikki thumbing through his wallet in the rearview mirror. “Here Nicholas. Take these two dollars. Buy yourself a nice sharp razor for keeping your face clean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, sir,” Nikki grabs for the money, too embarrassed to mention that he hasn’t needed to shave yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dad! Can I go in with him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, but don’t dawdle. We need to get home to help your mother finish getting that room ready.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once they get into the store, Tommy asks Nikki if he’s OK.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m fine. She just fucks with me, and I always fall for it. I…. well, it just makes me feel like I’m wrong for leaving,” Nikki says, grabbing a hand held shopping basket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t let her make you feel like that. You just said so yourself that you <em> always fall for it. </em> It’s a ruse <em> . </em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know,” Nikki says, as he selects a toothbrush and paste.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy follows behind Nikki. Touching everything; at one point, knocking a row of stuff to the floor. He picks it up, places back sloppily, and moves down the aisle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nikki, look… bet you need this,” Tommy cackles, holding up Vaseline.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t use that shit,” Nikki smirks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, do you always use spit?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No man, lube.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like engine lube?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki starts laughing. “No, clown. Lubricant made for sex.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I know. How like some of the condoms come lubricated.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, some do,” Nikki says, walking down the aisle about ten feet further. “This is the shit you need,” Nikki says, picking up KY Jelly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not Vaseline?’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ever try to wash that shit off? It sticks on you, and so you don’t want that mess on you or inside of you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy suddenly feels his pants filling up. <em> Inside of you. Inside of you. </em>[he stands there daydreaming.] Something he thinks about often. He just doesn’t quite get the whole concept of how he and Nikki can be together. He’s gonna have to ask about it later; maybe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, right,” Tommy finally says, cheeks flaming red. “Hey, don’t bother with shampoo and conditioner. You can use mine,” he says, changing the subject.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki notices the flush cheeks. He always notices everything. He gets deodorant, hair spray, soap, a comb and a pick, a bottle of Tylenol, and a bottle of sleeping pills. “I guess that’s good enough.” He’s going to need hair dye soon. It can wait; feeling uneasy about the mess that it will make in the Bass’s bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Razor?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki stands, cocks his head, and stares at Tommy. “Does it look like I need one?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I guess not. Your face always looks so smooth. Well, I mean, not now because you’re all busted up. I guess that it’s good that you don’t need to shave around the injuries. That would probably suck and be annoying.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know. I’m rambling again. Sorry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki smiles. “Your dad’s two bucks is getting me this,” Nikki smirks, waving the KY tube.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy gulps, and then smiles back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Later at the Bass house- </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, Nicholas, here’s where you’ll be staying,” Mr. Bass says, leading him back behind the kitchen, through the laundry room, “There’s a half bath down here. You’ll shower upstairs in the kids’ bathroom.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhhh,” Athena can be heard from out in the hallway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is there a problem, young lady?” Mr. Bass snaps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes! Tommy already takes forever in there. Him and blow drying his stupid hair and squeezing zits.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up, Princess of Pimples!” Tommy yells back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop you two,” Mrs. Bass admonishes. “Nikki you can use the top two drawers of this bureau for your belongings. There are extra blankets on that shelf if you get cold at night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nicholas, there are rules to follow in this house. Everyone has to eat dinner at the table, unless there’s a valid reason not to. You eat everything on your plate. Homework is to be completed before dinner, preferably. Curfew on school nights is 10pm, and bedtime is 10:30pm. No swearing. No girls in your room. Keep your room neat. Put things away when you’re done using them. Turn the lights off when you leave a room. No longer than 10 minutes on the phone. No long distance calls without prior permission. No TV until homework is completed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I understand. Thank you, sir.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Typically there would be chores to do, but given your rib injuries, we’ll excuse you from those.</p>
<p>We’re going to permit you to stay here for two weeks, rent free. If you choose to stay longer, rent will be required. A boy your age needs to learn these responsibilities. You’ll soon learn that no one gets a free ride in life,” Mr. Bass spouts on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dad, he knows that. He’s not here for a free ride,” Tommy says, with a furrowed brow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, son. I’m just laying out everything clear from the get-go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s very fair, Mr. and Mrs. Bass. Thank you for taking me in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dinner will be at 6. Tommy can you help me with unloading the dishwasher while your friend gets settled. Athena, please make sure that your bathroom is presentable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do I have to do that? It’s Tommy’s friend who will be using it? Why can’t I put the dishes away?” Athena snarls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do as I tell you,” Mrs. Bass says in a firm tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not fair!” she blares, stomping away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>In the kitchen - </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. Bass pulls Tommy towards a quiet corner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy, last night was an exception given the circumstances. But starting tonight neither you nor Nikki will be allowed in each other’s rooms overnight. During the day it’s fine. You can do homework together or listen to music, but not after bedtime.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy nods, feeling uncomfortable. “Mom…. um, we don’t…. Uh… we haven’t--“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“OK, Tommy. Enough said. Some things a mother doesn’t need to know,” Voula says, looking down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy can tell that she’s uncomfortable too. As much as he’s glad that she is accepting him, he figures that the revelation still must be something that will take her some time to process. He’s sure that there’s a certain amount of let-down that comes along with such news.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mom walks over to the dishwasher, and starts handing him plates to put away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they’re finished, he asks if he can help Nikki unpack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, go ahead. But I think that you should let him get some rest before dinner.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy nods, rolling his eyes once he turns his back. Getting rest is bullshit. No teenage boy wants to get rest over hanging out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns the corner, and then bounds into Nikki’s room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How’s it going?” Tommy asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good. I think most of my clothes fit in the drawers. I might need to leave my pants in the duffle bag.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry about my dad. He’s just trying to sound like he’s in control, but most of those rules are bullshit. I bend them everyday.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s OK. I don’t mind,” Nikki says, pulling belts and bandannas out of his bag, and looking for a place to put them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How about in the box?” Tommy says, pointing to an empty shoe box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess,” Nikki says, dumping the stuff into the box, next grabbing the brown bag of stuff that he got from the pharmacy earlier. He puts some stuff on top of the bureau, and other stuff he tucks into his duffle bag.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey Nikki?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, that stuff you got… you know the lube. Um, that’s for like jerking-off, right? I mean, we all do it, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki turns around with a grin, “Yeah, it’s for jerking-off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy cheeks burn scarlet. “Hey! Dude! Did you bring those demo tapes?” he asks, changing the subject.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, they’re in my bag.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was wondering if I can listen to that Sweet demo. My stereo tape deck has never swallowed up any of my cassettes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. You’re gonna shit when you hear this. It’s so fucking raw. Lemme just brush my teeth. It’s been like a day and a half.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nikki takes his new toothpaste and the brush and goes into the bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy waits for him, holding the box of cassettes, biting his lip in anticipation; hoping that kissing is on the menu. He’ll be gentle on the injuries. He leans against the wall, dreaming of the possibilities; while humming The Supreme’s “Baby Love.” It’s been stuck in his head all day. The first thing that came to his mind, the moment he recalled that Nikki was calling him <em> baby </em> all morning, during the cum-tasting extravaganza. <em> Oooh ooh ooh, baby love, my baby love. I need you, oh how I need you. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Knock Em Dead Kid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The tales we weave. The gossip they believe.</p>
<p>‐----------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s Monday morning - school, blah - </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think the kids in school are going to say about your face?” Tommy asks, as they walk to the bus stop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t give a fuck what they say. I’ll tell them a story that I got into a fight over a girl or something, and that the other guy looks worse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he did look worse. They just don’t have to know that it was my mighty fist did the dirty work,” Tommy says, while fist pumping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki stops in his tracks. “You know, shut the fuck up. Fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s just that everyone thinks that I’m a really nice guy, and that I’d never fuck anyone up. I didn’t even know that I had it in me. I mean, well I did, because I’m always envisioning my fists colliding with some asshole’s face. Bam! Bam!!” Tommy shouts, punching air. “I get angry a lot. But, I just never act on it. I didn’t know that I could fuck someone up. Hamburger meat soaking in victory blood. Fuck yeah!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki just shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I just tell people that I beat the shit out of someone? They’re gonna ask about my hand,” Tommy says, holding it out before himself in admiration.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, I don’t give a shit if your tell them that you went toe with toe with Muhammad Ali and creamed his championship ass, just leave my name out of your mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will, Nik. Can I call you Nik, Nikki?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. You can call me Nik. And what the fuck is with the whole Nicholas thing still? How did that start, and why is half the family calling me Nikki and half are still calling me Nicholas?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I told you because it was about the girl Nicky. You know the braces girl at the pool party.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know who she is, but it doesn’t explain why. It’s just starting to irk me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just waiting for the Nicky thing with that girl to be forgotten. Like, they thought I liked her, and I didn’t want….. Oh shit!!! The bus! We gotta run!!” Tommy yells, happy to be cut short.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t! My ribs. Fuck! Tell ‘em to hold the damn thing,” Nikki yells after Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki makes it to the bus about 10 seconds later, he climbs on, noticing stares, ignoring them, spotting Tommy about 5 seats back. He slides in next to him, with a harsh glare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit man. I’m sorry. I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just drive your fucking van to school?” Nikki growls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because only seniors get on-campus parking privileges,” Tommy reasons.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fuck cares. Park down a block or two on the street, or wherever. We have to walk 4 blocks to the bus stop anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. Um, maybe I can ask my parents if it’s OK.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you looking at?” Nikki bristles at some geek who was unfortunate to get caught up in a stare. “I hate the fucking bus.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll drive, tomorrow. OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. And can you ask that fucking singing party prick about the band?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Something wrong, Nikki?” Tommy asks, puzzled; unfamiliar with this snippy side of his friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I bet my mom would have let you stay home today. You know, especially because of the ribs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki shakes his head. “You know what will happen? They’ll call my mom to say that I’ve been marked absent. She’ll tell them that she doesn’t know where I am, then they’ll send a truancy officer out to look for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom could have called you out, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom, I don’t know. I just don’t want anyone suspecting anything by getting my home involved. And fuck the thing about a girl. If anyone asks, I got into a fight at the Whisky, OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds cool, Nik… Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki sits in silence for the rest of the ride. He’s just now beginning to think of things that might open up a can of worms. He can’t have the school call his home. He doesn’t know what his mother will say. He doesn’t want to be known as the kid from a broken home. Not only that, Nikki either has to go home in two weeks, or start finding a way to make money so that he can pay rent, which will make it harder to buy a bass guitar. He already had to spend money on stupid shit yesterday, like toothpaste. He toys with the notion of selling drugs again. He did it in Seattle for a little while; grass, peyote, poppers, shrooms. Small beans type stuff. But he knows that he’ll never be able to consciously turn over dirty money to Mr. Bass for payment. He just knows that he doesn’t want to leave, ever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sits in silence, worried that Nikki is upset with him. About bragging. About the bus. About Nicky. About being annoying. He knows he’s annoying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know that Nikki isn’t upset with him. Not at all. Hell, Nikki knows that the kid deserves to be hoisted up onto someone’s shoulders and celebrated for once in his life. Just not at his expense, not today anyway. There are too many things plaguing his mind right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bus finally arrives at school. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna head up to my homeroom, OK?” Nikki says, walking off the bus, not bothering to wait for a response from Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you after school,” Tommy calls out, not receiving a response. He’ll have to figure it out later. He decides that he’ll make it his mission today, to find Vince and talk to him about the band. At least that might make Nikki happy. He decides to head to homeroom. He takes a seat and drums his fingers absent-mindedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cindy walks in. “Oh my god, Tommy. Like, what did you do to your hand?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, I uh…. fell. I tripped over my sister’s bike in the driveway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re such a klutz.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” Tommy shrugs, already mourning the loss of his made-up victory story. He choked, and couldn’t think fast enough to weave a believable bad-ass tale together. He blew his chance of infamy for his gallant knuckle injuries. He figures maybe there’s a limit on the number of acclaimed body parts he can have recognized per school year. He reduced himself from snaz to spaz in about 3 seconds flat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, Tommy. Now that marching band is over, you should totally come hang with us at the Galleria on Friday nights. It will be fun, and you won’t spend so much time at home tripping over baby toys.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe. But, I’m going to be starting a band soon. I don’t know if I’ll have time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, pu-leese. You and 100 other kids in this school. Tell me, why start a band when you can just go to the Galleria and buy the music at Record World?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Tommy asks, questioning her dumb logic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I want to hear some amatuer high school kids singing Rod Stewart or Queen or whatever, when I can hear a good version on a record by the artist?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coz we’re gonna do originals.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heard that before,” Cindy rolls her eyes. “The only thing original you need is an original idea for a real hobby. Like shopping…. Do you like my new dress? I just got it this weekend. It’s an original.” she says, preening in front of him and leaning forward to make sure that her cleavage is in view.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look pretty,” Tommy sports a fake smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles back, and snaps her gum.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Everett! Gum in the trash can!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh,” she groans. “Yes, Mrs. Worth.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy just wants the bell to ring.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lunch time - Tommy finally has a chance to talk with Vince ~</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vince and his friends are engaged in conversation by the time Tommy joins them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That kid is bad-ass,” Ralph says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard he beat in the bouncer’s face with a chain,” Vince says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that didn’t happen. My friend was there, and saw it. He stomped on the other guy’s neck, and the dude couldn’t breath. All of these blood vessels in the guy’s eyes burst,” Kyle says. “Like blood was coming out of his eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit man,” Ralph says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you guys talking about?” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that new kid, Nikki or Ricky or something like that. He’s got black, messy hair?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well have you seen his face today? He was involved in a fight at the Whisky, and apparently cleaned house. His face looks like shit, but the other guy got it worse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Where’d you hear that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all over school, man. That kid’s a fucking legend,” Kyle says. “Hey, what’d you do to your hand? You fighting too?” Kyle laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Naw, I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He tumbled off his sister’s bike when the posy basket fell off in the front, without warning, and it got tangled up in the wheels,” Ralph says, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait? Where’d you hear that? I wasn’t riding my sister’s bike!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. That’s just the story I heard through the hallways.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, piss breath,” Tommy snaps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, so clever, Tommy. Did you also steal your sister’s joke book to come up with some stinging level-one insults.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy just grins widely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you grinning for?” Ralph barks back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, piss breath,” Tommy says, still grinning, turning towards Vince. “Can I talk to you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you smiling! What the fuck does that mean?” Ralph persists, shoving his shoulder. “I don’t like that look.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Ralph?” Tommy grins, again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck him, Tommy. What do you want?” Vince huffs, pulling Tommy back towards him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mere,” Tommy says, edging Vince away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen. Um, I’m starting a band. Like not Top 40 shit. Originals, and they’re good. I think that we’re gonna go somewhere with it. We just need a good frontman. What do you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you just come out from under a rock? I just started my own fucking band.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, singing someone else’s songs. Where are you gonna go with that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. We’re still in high school. I don’t have to think too deeply into that shit yet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I do think about it. Me, and the other two guys; we’re all on board for a future of making it big.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Tommy. You and everyone else. What makes you so confident?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You just gotta hear the songs, dude. Our guitarist, he’s been in bands. He’s 22, and said he wasn’t getting involved with teenagers. That is until he heard the songs. Now he’s on board; and </span>
  <b>he’s </b>
  <span>played on the strip already. You’re gonna regret not taking this opportunity.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of sound?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like a mash-up of rock, metal, and punk. I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not sure,” Vince says, stroking his chin. “I’m pretty tight with my bass player. Who’s your bassist? If we can ditch him for my friend, maybe I’ll consider.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No dice, man. The bass player is the song writer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll think about it,” Vince replies, as he absent-mindedly runs his fingers through his hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck!!! Vin, you know who the bass player is!!,” Tommy says, excitedly. “It’s Nikki; the guy who had that kick ass fight at the Whisky over the weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That kid?! How’d you hook up with him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Long story. But you gotta hear his songs. He knows what he’s doing!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, why didn’t you fucking say so when we were just talking about him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno. Come on man, what do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, it’s sounding better and better. Lemme just think it over. I feel kinda badly dicking my friends over,” Vince laments.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you actually give a shit about someone?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, weird, right? It’s just that, like we worked hard to get our thing going. We’re pretty passionate about it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki is 100% pure passion about music. And he’s got a bad-ass image that will get us noticed. And…” Tommy looks both ways, then leans into Vince’s ear. “He pissed in Ralph’s and Kyle’s beer at your party. They deserved it. They don’t know. They were literally piss-ass drunk,” Tommy laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vince smiles back. “Shit, man. It might be good to get on that kid’s good side.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When do you think we can get together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, not for at least two weeks. I’m still grounded.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck. I forgot. OK.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s so secretive over here?” Kyle says, leaning in between Tommy and Vince.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t breathe in my face, Kyle,” Vince says, walking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? I thought you liked PBJs?” Kyle says, throwing his arms up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No Piss Beer and Jelly for me. Later, Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is he talking about, Tommy? What’d you tell him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta go,” Tommy says, walking away feeling good; for once walking away, having the upper hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Around 3rd period, Nikki is emerging from the nurse’s office, and comes face to face with Cindy, who’s going in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Nikki. What happened? I heard you were in a fight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s all good. Hey, I need a favor. Can you get me Mick’s phone number?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mick? Ew. What do you want with him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just gotta talk to him about something?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s sooo boring,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “You’re gonna die from complete boredom. But, I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll give you his number if you come over after school, and well, I don’t know… maybe we can pick up where we left off,” the vixen says, running her finger along her bottom lip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you dating someone?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get with the times, Nikki. He’s ruining my social life by doing stupid things like getting grounded.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK, fine. When?” Nikki says with a smirk, squeezing her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oww-uhh! I just got stung by a bee there, you dumb ox,” she says, rubbing her shoulder, making sure that her hand grazes over her cleavage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, so when? Today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh, your face is so like gross right now. I can’t. Like maybe later in the week, OK? Like after some of the scabs fall off.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever, but I need that fucking phone number,” Nikki says, walking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” Cindy says, heading into the nurse’s office.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s 8th period, and Nikki is in metal shop. -</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Feranna, can I see you, please.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck, Nikki thinks. He’s been dodging close calls all day regarding his face. He’s had to answer to teachers and the nurse, and fed enough bullshit their way to keep them from calling home. He also lucked out in gym, because Health class just started a week ago, in lieu of gym. Health is stupid. He knows all that shit already about VDs and making babies, but he’s thankful for once, to not have to find an excuse to get out of gym class without a note. He’ll gladly study illustrations of the vagina to avoid a call home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Mr. Moore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard about your story of what happened at the Whisky last weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki just nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems a little far-fetched doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki shrugs, “Depends what you heard. Not all of it’s true.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, man. That guy got the better of you, didn’t he? I mean, all of these dumbass teenagers believe wild stories like that, but you can’t fool me. I play at the Whisky. I know the vibe at that place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You play?” Nikkis eyes go wide.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I play bass in a bluesy, rock band.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. I play bass too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Is that so? I’ve always had a feeling that you dig playing. I often see you rocking to the music that I play on the radio in here. But not like exaggerated air guitar style, but I can tell you connect with the groove, man. The pulse of it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I live for music.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should come see my band play one night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been able to catch a few bands. I don’t have a car. I have to rely on rides from my friends, otherwise, I’d probably be on The Strip every night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I can always pick you up one night. You can see me play, or we can listen to some music together, and maybe play.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, man. Are you in a band?” the teacher asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m actually trying to start one. I got a few snags to work out first; like the fact that I don’t have a bass right now. I had to sell mine when I was living in Seattle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seattle? I’ve been there many times.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool. It was OK.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we seem to have a lot in common. For instance, your metal shaping skills. None of my other students have achieved the level of craftsmanship that you have.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a thing for knives too. I have a collection of them at home. I’ll add this one that I’m making to my collection.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a great piece, Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Moore!!! I just cut myself!!!” a student blares out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The teacher sighs in frustration. ”You can talk to me about music anytime, big guy,” he says, squeezing Nikki’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki goes back to his knife project, feeling validated that someone has actually taken notice of his talents.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Other than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nikki continued his silent treatment with Tommy until they got off the bus, towards home. He has no reason in particular for doing so, he just wants to be away from the school setting. He’s had enough for today.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s been feeling uneasy and a little blue. He has a million things that he wants to tell Nikki, but he bites his tongue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You got a lot of homework?” Nikki asks, as they start their journey on foot towards home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To Tommy, that question felt like a warm blanket being wrapped snugly around himself, easing his tension. His smile picks up immediately. “Yeah, a little. It shouldn’t take long. You? Maybe we can work on music today? I guess maybe I should ask how you’re feeling first. How was it? You know like the ribs and shit?” Tommy can’t shut up, a string of questions and other blabs just tumble out of his mouth at rapid speed, like the way the gates are lifted for greyhounds at the start of the race.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki picks one question to answer. “I’m good. But I think I need to lay down with my feet up for a bit, to stretch out and take pressure off.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh OK. Well, like maybe I’ll do my homework while you’re doing that. Then um, I had some ideas for different drum fills. I think that I want to practice them. Oh, and I think that I should get a cowbell. What do you think? Do you want to listen? I can beat my sticks on the tile floor in your bedroom to give you an idea, if you need to just lie down instead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. I know. I’m talking too much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine. It’s always fine. I want to do it all, OK? Let me just take a load off for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK,” Tommy says with a cautious smile. Maybe his mom was right afterall about that whole getting rest thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They get to the house. “You want something to eat? My sister usually makes us both a bologna sandwich when we get home. I can ask her to make one more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m not hungry. I’ll eat at dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Tommy shrugs, dropping his smile, as he kicks his shoes off by the door, and opens the foyer closet to hang up his jacket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Nikki says, coming up behind Tommy, as he’s got the closet open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drummer turns around to meet Nikki’s eyes. Despite the visual reminders of the dark story that surrounds them, there’s a sharp flicker in them, as Nikki pushes Tommy inwards into the hanging gallery of coats, then presses his hungry lips onto Tommy’s equally hungry pout. He grabs the drummer’s ass firmly, which causes him to buck his hips towards Nikki; something that would have been a natural inclination to do anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy pulls Nikki in closer, so desperately wanting to feel that lump in his pants imposing upon his own. He pulls him closer as their kiss deepens with gratifying passion….closer, until gravity causes Tommy’s tilted body to push through the deceptively sturdy barrier of coats that briefly held him steady, as hangers part on either side of him like the Red Sea. He crashes back against the wall of the closet with a resounding thud, sending a strong vibration through the bones of the house, ending up on his ass on the floor on top of a pile of shoes and totes; one red cardigan blanketing his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki was able to make a grab for the door frame to prevent himself from falling too.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Athena, who beat them home by a few minutes, and had already started assembling sandwiches, comes running in from the direction of the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She bursts into laughter upon seeing her brother tangled up on the floor. “Are you stupid? Trip much? Over your own yacht-sized feet?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy pulls the sweater off of his head, and can’t help but to start laughing too. He can’t be upset or embarrassed; his viper just breathed his verve right back into him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I lost my balance,” Tommy shrugs, trying to get himself back to standing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re such a goof. You know, a few people asked me today if you ride my bike. They said you busted your hand on it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I know. A rumor got started. Ignore it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How does falling back on your hand turn into a story about you on my bike?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Athena. I’m hungry, can you just finish my sandwich, please,” Tommy snaps, worried that there’s far too many versions of the events surrounding his hand and Nikki’s face. It makes him uneasy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. and Mrs. Bass and Tommy agreed to tell her that he simply fell and hurt his hand, and that Nikki was in a fist fight with another kid about a girl. Hopefully by tomorrow, none of this matters. Once the gossip has been circulated to the point of full saturation, people tend to get bored of the news just as quickly. As for the reason why Nikki is staying at the house, Athena was told that Nikki’s mom was traveling for a few weeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine! Do you want something, Nicholas?” Athena huffs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Thank you. I’m good. And call me, Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. Are you the Nikki that people were talking about in school today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably,” Nikki smiles. “About the fight?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I heard something about it from a few people, but I didn’t know it was about you. I like Nikki better, anyway. It’s easier to say,” Athena says, turning on her heel, hair swinging behind her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about the name thing. I’ll tell my dad too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. Listen, I need to be flat for awhile. We’ll talk later, OK?” Nikki says, planting one more kiss on Tommy before heading towards the back room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK.” Tommy says, smiling once again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki gets to his room and shuts the door. He sits on his bed and pulls a small fold of paper out of his jacket. He unfolds the sturdy paper, revealing a few large blue pills. He was told that they’re tranquilizers. He paid $2 for the three of them; upset to see his cash dwindling, but eager to feel better in body, mind, and soul. Nikki dry swallows one, wraps the others back up, tucks them into his jacket pocket, and lays back on the bed, hoping for speedy results.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Hotter Than Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy goes back to chewing his thumb nail, while looking at his other hand. “Oh, it just seems… I don’t know. Maybe awkward.”</p><p>Tommy has questions. Nikki is more than happy to provide answers.</p><p>‐-----------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Nikki?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki?” Tommy says, shaking him with a bit more force. </p><p> </p><p>Nikki doesn’t stir. A surge of fear pulses through Tommy. Did Nikki have an undiagnosed concussion or something, and slip into a coma? He’s heard that could happen. Maybe he’s just a deep sleeper?</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki, wake up,” Tommy says, close to his face, slapping his less damaged cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki finally stirs with a groan.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank god,” Tommy breathes. “Nikki, wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>The bassist blinks his eyes open. Everything in front of him is vibrating, and sounds low and slow.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” Tommy asks, pushing hair off of Nikki’s forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“Tom?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. It’s me. Are you OK?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good,” Nikki says, rubbing his hands over his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you always this hard to wake up? I thought something was wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki shifts himself to a sitting position and keeps his head down to avoid the feeling of everything shaking around him. “Sometimes I’m hard to wake up, but I’m gonna be honest with you, man. I took a relaxant.” His own words sound like they’re being spoken back at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Valium?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, something stronger, like an elephant tranquilizer or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit man, you’re only like the size of one elephant leg. I don’t know if I’d mess around with that shit. I got some Valium stashed away if you want it. My mom used to take it for a while, and then my dad told her to stop because he felt she was becoming addicted. She threw them out, and I pulled the bottle out of the garbage. I don’t know, man. Everyone’s mom was taking that shit. I didn’t see the big deal. So, maybe you can have my stash if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m good, dude. Um, you say you got drum fills?” Nikki asks, still rubbing his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I had some ideas. Do you wanna hear them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not right now unless you can get the beats to fall in sync with the vibrations in my head.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need to lie down some more?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think maybe I should.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let me get you some water, first. Then lay back down and I’ll wake you up for dinner. Does that sound good?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki nods his head, as he eases himself back down.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy gets up to get him a glass of water. He’s worried.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Nikki sleeps for that extra hour and a half, and is finally beckoned for dinner by Tommy around 6:30. His surroundings seem more stable now, but he feels laden, distant, and maybe a little numb.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad to know that you’re taking time for rest,” Mrs. Bass comments.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, ma’am. The school day kind of knocked me out,” Nikki replies, trying to keep his eyes open and focused.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope that you have time and energy to get your studies done.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have none today,” Nikki lies. He just doesn’t give a shit. And he can finish some stuff in study hall.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that worked out nicely for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, mom. And I’m done with homework so we’re going to listen to music tonight,” Tommy butts in.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Dinner is uneventful. Nikki doesn’t want to eat much. Tommy, aware of this, steals stuff off of his plate when no one is looking. When finished, they go up to Tommy’s room. Nikki immediately flops down on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki, come on. You’re completely fucked,” Tommy says, in an exasperated tone.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Nikki says, with a drowsy smile.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not funny. And I don’t think that you should take that shit anymore. I’ll give you my Valiums to relax,” Tommy insists, rubbing Nikki’s back.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all good.”</p><p> </p><p>“No it’s not. You’re so damn numb that you don’t even realize that you’re lying on your injured ribs. Fucking turn yourself over.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I guess. Let me sit up. You got something for me to hear?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, we can do that tomorrow. It’s a little late to get fired up on my drums. I’ll put a record on though,” Tommy says, getting up and pulling out Led Zeppelin.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck man. I guess that pill did knock me on my ass. I’ll sleep well tonight,” Nikki says, now in a sitting position. “By the way, I talked to Cindy today about getting Mick’s phone number,” Nikki says, rubbing his hand through his greasy hair.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy realized that Nikki hasn’t showered since being here, as he notices that his hair seems to just flop back down from the weight of dirt and oils in it. “Yeah? And?”</p><p> </p><p>“And, I gotta fuck her to get the number,” Nikki answers, with a drowsy grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what?”</p><p> </p><p>“She wants me to come over to her house. That’s a way of letting me know that she wants to fuck.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll ask her, Nikki. You don’t need to do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, it’s OK. I can use a good fuck,” Nikki says, still mindlessly stroking his own head of hair.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy frowns. He should be the one fucking Nikki, but he’s scared shitless. He still needs to have a talk about it, but not tonight. Nikki’s not all there, and Tommy wants honest and real information from him regarding intimacy.</p><p> </p><p>“I can still ask her, so that it’s not hanging over your head.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe... because we have to wait anyway, which is fucking stupid. She thinks I’m too ugly to fuck right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“She said that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not her exact words, but my scabby face offends her.”</p><p> </p><p>“God, she’s so fucking shallow. I don’t know what I ever saw in her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think that you ever saw anything in her, twink,” Nikki smirks.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be a dick.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not. I’m just saying, r-i-i-i-ght?” Nikki asks, raising his eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever,” Tommy huffs. He knows Nikki is right, but doesn’t like the tone he used. He feels a sudden fear strike him, that maybe Nikki isn’t gay enough for him. He still wants to fuck girls. Maybe Tommy is just a boy toy for him. This thought makes him feel uncomfortable, and he might have to rethink his plan to talk about moving onto things beyond kissing. Tommy feels a twinge of jealousy that Nikki seems to be bisexual. At least he can get by in life and easily cover up the forbidden side of things. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t get mad. You just need to be true to who you are.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you need to be true to who you are by facing your demons instead of numbing your soul with drugs that are strong enough to kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you. You have no idea why I do what I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you have no idea what I have to deal with, so stop telling me to just be true. It’s not that easy!” Tommy snaps.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki just sits on the bed, flexing his jaw. He doesn’t respond.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy softens, relaxing his angry posture. “I’m just worried about you. That’s all. I’m sorry,” Tommy says, hanging his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t take those fucking pills anymore, OK?”</p><p> </p><p>“Would you be willing to exchange them with me for the Valium?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Nikki says with an easy grin, not meaning it. Already plotting to find a way to sneak in here and find them.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. That makes me feel a lot better,” he says, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s look of relief pains Nikki. He knows that he is looking out for his best interests. Maybe he <em> should </em> try to lay off the strong stuff. He started to get into some heavier drugs before leaving Seattle, but he backed off since being here, instead trying to focus on the stereo and letting the L.A. sunshine brighten his mood, not to mention Tommy. However what just happened two days ago was his breaking point. The physical injuries hurt. The psychological damage is worse. The drugs kill both types of pain. But that smile on Tommy’s face. He needs that more. It’s better than drugs. He tells himself that he’s going to try to lay off the numbing stuff, and just stick with the lightweights in the wide world of drugs. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Nik. I did even better than you today; you know with you talking to Cindy. I talked to Vince,” Tommy says with a smug smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet. And?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, he’s interested. Just one problem, and we already knew it would be; he’s grounded for two more weeks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that might not be such a bad thing. One, we still need to reconnect with Mick. Two, I’m not in the best shape right now. And three, I need a fucking bass. I’m getting a little concerned about that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a savings account. Maybe I can try to convince my parents to let me take some money out? I bet we can find something second-hand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t do that. Save your money. I’ll figure something out. I tune down a few strings on my guitar to badly mimic the bass. Barely works because if I tune down too much the strings go slack. There’s a fine line to find. It’s just for my songwriting, but I really need one soon before I lose my touch. It’s been about two months since I’ve had one in my hands. It has a much different feel than a guitar.”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened to your old one?”</p><p> </p><p>“I sold it.”</p><p> </p><p>“For drugs?” Tommy dares to ask.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki shrugs. “That definitely was a bonehead move.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, all these things are just little hiccups. One day when we’re rich and famous, we’ll look back at this time and laugh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Come here.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy, who was sitting on the floor, crawls over towards the bed, and gets up on it; back against the wall, legs criss-crossed over Nikki’s legs, and soon leaning over to connect their lips. They kiss for a few minutes, until Tommy hears footsteps coming up the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>Whoever it was, continued on their way, but this is all so risky to do here. Tommy thinks that he might have to start making better use of the back of his van, as his pounding heart begins to ease.</p><p> </p><p>His van…. “Oh shit. Hey, lemme ask if my parents will let me drive to school.”</p><p> </p><p>“OK. I guess I’ll wait here.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I was thinking.  Maybe a shower for you?” Tommy suggests, tugging on a tress of Nikki’s oily hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Why, do I smell?” Nikki says, doing the sniff test on his armpit.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not to me, but I guarantee my mom will get on your case.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess. OK. Lemme go down and get the things that I need,” Nikki says, slowly pulling himself up off the bed.</p><p> </p><p>-----------------</p><p> </p><p>As Tommy heads back upstairs to his bedroom, he’s excited to tell Nikki that he got a reluctant ‘yes’ that he can drive his van to school. If his parents catch wind of any funny business, like playing hooky, they’re back to taking the bus for the rest of the school year.  </p><p> </p><p>However, when Tommy reaches the top step, he soon forgets about the van. The shower water is running. That means that Nikki is in there… naked. Oh god, he’s NA-KED…… Tommy’s knees are weakening. He creeps over to the bathroom door and puts her ear up against it; perhaps hoping to hear him being naked?? He closes his eyes. A dab of drool is ready to dribble down his chin…</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy nearly jumps out of his own clothes, startled to see his sister standing a few feet away.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, I was just trying to figure out how long he was going to be. I have to piss really badly. I was uh… waiting to hear if the water stopped,” Tommy says, thinking that sounds totally believable. Not actually maybe not at all. There’s zero percent chance that she’ll think there’s any bit of truth in that.</p><p> </p><p>“What don’t you just use mom and dad’s bathroom, stupid? Duuuh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I was just going to do that,” Tommy says, with a nervous giggle.</p><p> </p><p>“How about <b>I </b>wait here for him to get out,” Athena smiles, with a devious grin.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s smile drops fast, and brows are furrowed in record time. “I told you to stay away from him! He doesn’t want you, and I would have to kill him if he did,” Tommy snarls.</p><p> </p><p>“Just kidding, lamebrain,” Athena says, pushing Tommy. She steps away, sticks her tongue out, walks down two steps, turns back, and says, “He is hot though.” Then she runs fast down the rest of the steps.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay away!” Tommy yells down from the top, pounding his fist on the wall.</p><p> </p><p>All that is followed by some sort of hollering from their mom and dad downstairs, probably because they’re being loud and disruptive. Tommy doesn’t care; he goes into his room and slams his door shut. He takes a deep breath and locks it. Fuck! No, no, no. He’s supposed to be pretending to use the bathroom. Nah, forget it. His erection is in flux, but now that he’s in his room alone. It’s made up its mind to stick around; he’s not leaving the room now, for a false piss.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy sits on his bed, and fishes out his container of Vaseline. He waits, sitting completely still for about a minute, to see if anyone from the family is on their way up to confront him about the sibling scuffle. He’s good. He would have heard something by now, but time is ticking. He figures he’s got a few minutes at least before Nikki comes out of the bathroom. Even if he shut the water off right now, it would still take him a few minutes to towel off and get dressed. Tommy’s hand-jiving-Nikki-fantasies are usually pretty shorted-lived. They never last as long as he hopes. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy shimmies his sweatpants down, greases up, and lays his head back on his pillow. He thinks about Nikki in the shower…. Right now. Separated by a wall. He closes his eyes…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s soon facing Nikki’s back in the shower. Tommy wraps his aching hands around him; one hand stroking his soapy chest up to his neck. The other on the teasing zone; the crease between his thigh and hip. Nikki stiffens at the unexpected touch, as he inhales and holds it, as the sticky, hot steam swirls around him. Then his exhale comes out as a moan. Tommy moves his hand just slightly to take hold of Nikki’s pulsing erection. The bass player braces himself, breathlessly against the 70’s yellow gold-colored tiled wall, as he feels Tommy’s erection pressing up against him. They buck against each other, and then oops… the bar of soap is dropped. Who’s gonna pick it up? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t fret, baby doll. I’ll pick it up. I might need you to grip me by my hips, so that I don’t fall,” Nikki breathes out, sooo sensually, as he strokes underneath Tommy’s chin.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Anything, my naked Roman god,” the Greek says, grabbing onto the expertly sculpted hips. He takes a deep breath, and pulls Nikki towards his body, as he takes a bow to grab a hold of the slippery ivory-color bar of suds.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Oh, Tommy...it keeps slipping out of my hand. Hold me more firmly… closer, as I continue to stay bent at the hips, exposing my entrance…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Entrance! Wait! But, how… why…. where? Isn’t it supposed to be exit-only? I don’t know what to do? How… like isn’t it weird. Isn’t it messy? Like messy, messy? Am I missing something?” Tommy stammers. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Dude! You’re fucking up your fantasy. Are you game or not?” Nikki asks, still bent, blinking away the water dripping into his eyes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I… I…” Fuck, Plan B, like STAT!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tommy’s giant cock is instead suddenly enrobed in Nikki’s mouth. Deep in his throat. “Oh yeah, Nikki. That’s better. I’m good now. I’m really good…. Of fuck, oh fuck yes, you’re going to make me cum. Uh...uh… oh god, I’m cumming, Nikki. I’m cumming,” Tommy gasps. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He opens his eyes, lying on his bed, and stares down at his pearly load on the sock. The water shuts off. Tommy frantically tries to wipe the goop off. Maybe Nikki was right about the petroleum jelly. Cleaned up enough, he wads the sock up, and shoves it under his mattress for now. There’s no room in the secret chamber. He pulls up his pants, and unlocks his bedroom door. His mother has told him that he’s not to keep his bedroom locked, unless there’s a legitimate reason. There’s obvious distrust going on here, but this reason was pretty legit. </p><p> </p><p>---------------</p><p> </p><p>Tommy walks around his room in a circle, air drumming, blowing off nervous energy, knowing that he’s probably going to come face to face with Nikki very soon, once he’s finished up in the bathroom. It’s the one downfall of living together. He used to have more time between coming down from his fantasies before seeing Nikki at school or to go out somewhere. Now, there’s no recovery time, and it’s awkward for him. Not that Nikki has even the slightest notion of what Tommy was doing, or does he?</p><p> </p><p>The bedroom door suddenly flings open, and Nikki comes bounding in, shirtless, with a big grin on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki! Oh my god. Where’s your shirt?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. I guess I dropped it,” Nikki says shrugging, rivulets of water trailing down his shoulders from his wet hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you just can’t walk around here shirtless!”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” That shower felt fucking great! I feel awake!” Nikki says stoked, pounding his upper chest with his fist (opposite the side of the bad ribs.)</p><p> </p><p>“You just can’t. My sister, well she...um. Well, ok so my mother will like…. Well like, it’s weird. And my dad, he’s just gonna flip… you know because of my sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell does all that mean? Fuck them. I thought that you might like it,” Nikki smiles even wider.</p><p> </p><p>“Me? Oh…. well, yes. I mean no. I mean yes, but like...uuhhhh,” Tommy goes rooting through his t-shirts. “Just put this on, OK?” Tommy says handing over a shirt.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki looks down at his friend’s pants. Tommy pulls the shirt back, and places in front of his groin, cheek burning red.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck. Why’d I just do that? Now he knows that I know that he knows.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Just give me the shirt, Tom,” Nikki says, holding his hand out, holding his smile. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy hands it over.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s better. You were blocking my view,” Nikki says, popping his eyebrows up.</p><p> </p><p>“What view?” Tommy plays dumb, turning towards the bed to fiddle with some notebooks. “Oh, hey! I can drive to school tomorrow,” the subject-changer says, craning his neck to look back towards a now shirted Nikki.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki doesn’t respond. He just comes up behind Tommy, and wraps his arms around him from the back; kissing his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy can feel Nikki’s erection pressing up against him; his own erection back at full strength already; plus he smells sooo good right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, hey Nik. I figured, with me driving, that we can sleep in an extra 10 minutes tomorrow! Isn’t that ace!”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki, feeling Tommy’s reluctance, unwraps his arms, and steps back.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, 10 minutes of sleep. Great, man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you know. It’s another bonus.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not the kind of bonus that excites me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, man. My family is home. All of them, and anyone can walk in at any moment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is there ever a time when nobody is fucking home?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, um… not usually. Maybe when they all go to church on Sunday. That’s about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki grins.</p><p> </p><p>“No… no… we can’t. It’s church, man. They’re praying and kneeling and eating bread and shit. Like we can’t--”</p><p> </p><p>“Why the fuck not? I’ll kneel and eat too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” Tommy says, running a hand down his face. Um, OK. How many days away is that? So it’s Monday now. So that’s Tuesday, Wednesday, Thurs--” Tommy says, starting to count days on his fingers, until Nikki cuts him off.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t count down shit like that. You with me or are you not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Um, but... Well, I um…”</p><p> </p><p>“TOMMY!!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit. My dad’s calling me,” Tommy says, racing to the top of the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up dad?”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you to take the garbage out after dinner! Why is it still here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Coming! ...Uh, be right back, Nikki. Put a record on, OK?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki sighs, resolving that he’s going to spend those extra 10 minutes jerking off tonight. He ain’t getting anything.</p><p> </p><p>--------------------------</p><p> </p><p>It’s 1:45am. Tommy lies awake in bed, starting at the ceiling. Why is he such a drip? He wants Nikki. Nikki wants him, at least it seems so. So, what’s the problem? Well, his family being around of course. They’d be so fucked if they were ever caught, both of them. Nikki would be out on his ass. Tommy would be grounded until he’s 30 and probably sent away to boarding school in the Swiss Alps. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck… he’s knows that’s not really it, at least not the bulk of it. He’s nervous. He’s scared. He doesn’t know how to do it. It’s embarrassing. But, Tommy thinks that if he doesn’t act soon, Nikki is going to move on, and he’s going to enjoy his fuck with Cindy immensely. Tommy deserves him a lot more than Cindy does. Hell, what if he starts looking at Athena? She’s the closest looking thing to himself. Oh god no. That can’t happen, and if it does it’s all Tommy’s fault for not making a move. He gets out of bed, and tiptoes downstairs. It’s time to take action.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy clicks open Nikki’s door. He’s asleep, messy and stretched out all over the place; one foot sticking out from underneath a blanket, and one arm dangling off the side of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stands and stares at him. He’s just too damn gorgeous, and it’s either now or never. OK, well maybe not for <b> <em>that</em> </b> yet, but Tommy’s just gotta have that talk.</p><p> </p><p>He gets down to bedside level, and shakes his shoulder. Nikki stirs more easily this time. He opens his eyes, blinking, then props himself up on an elbow to face Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s shakin’, man?” Nikki asks, droopy eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. I just wanted to come down here to see you,” Tommy says, now sitting Indian-style on the area rug in front of the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you have to wake me up for that?” Nikki asks, knowing that Tommy’s got something more to reveal about his visit.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy takes a deep breath, and just blurts it out. “Nikki, if we were to ever, you know, um like be together, like you know, um… naked or something. What do we do? Like how does that work? They don’t teach that in health class. I mean, they do, but not like that. And none of my friends--”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you talking about gay sex?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy gulps, pulling hard on his hair. “I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki cracks a smile; biting his tongue to stifle a laugh. Not that it’s funny, but it’s… Tommy being Tommy, and he loves his aloofness. “What are you worried about?” Nikki already knows.</p><p> </p><p>“OK, so, there’s only one hole down there that can work, right? But you know, like people go to the bathroom.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy... maybe it’s not for the faint of heart. But it so fucking amazing, that none of that matters. For one, you can clean up before, and you can clean up after. And two, you gotta use lube. A lot of it. It’s not like a girl’s pussy that’s all wet and juiced up for you. The lube is the primary thing that gets all over the place. Then you just wipe it up. But I’m telling you that it’s the most incredible fuck that you’ll ever experience. You’re not gonna be thinking about anything other than how amazing your orgasm is.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods, thinking about this for a moment. “Ok, but like… ok, so say you’re the one being fucked. The guy fucking you is getting off by getting the hell squeezed out of his own cock, and he’s obviously going to have an explosive orgasm, but how does that work for you? Like do you jerk yourself off while it’s happening?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know about your P-spot, right?” Nikki asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Where my urine is made?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, not your piss. Your prostate, man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, isn’t that part of the male reproductive system?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck the reproductive system. There’s no reproducing with gay sex anyway. Have you ever stimulated your prostate?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d know, if you have. It’s your P-spot. Trigger that motherfucker, and you’re going to have the orgasm of your life. Like it takes over your whole body. And you might milk, but you don’t always cum. If you do cum though, it’s even better. That’s when you’re just sent into orbit.”</p><p> </p><p>“How can you have an orgasm without shooting your cum? Isn’t that part of having sex?”</p><p> </p><p>“Two different stimulations. You can do ‘em together. Sometimes it’s hard not to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Well, I guess that I have some learning to do,” Tommy says biting his thumb nail. “And doesn’t it hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s gonna hurt at first. Then it’s gonna feel good… really good.”</p><p> </p><p>“It just seems like a lot in there at once. How bad does it hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki flutters his fingers in front of Tommy. “When you start, you use these with lube to open it up. One at time, till you get used to each one.”</p><p> </p><p>“All five?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you want. Usually 3 is good enough to get you to where you need to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“So I do that myself?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can. It’s not going to be as easy and it’s not going to feel as good.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, like your partner does it.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki nods. “Eventually, the more you do it, you won’t need as much fingering after a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy goes back to chewing his thumb nail, while looking at his other hand. “Oh, it just seems… I don’t know. Maybe awkward.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said. It gets messy. It’s mostly the lube. Have you ever heard about those single-use wipes? I think they’re called Wet-Ones or some stupid name like that?’</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Well find ‘em and buy ‘em. They’re easy to use for a quick in between clean-up.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you know so much? Have you… like done it …. a lot?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve done it… enough to know.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you, Nikki?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like straight and experimental? Or bi-sexual? Or gay and experimental?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like labels. I just want to do what I want to do. It doesn’t matter to me,” Nikki says, in a barely detectable perturbed tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Why’s it so easy for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing in my life is easy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not upset. And don’t be sorry. I guess that I just don’t care as much about what people think about me because I have nothing to uphold. Everyone knows that I don’t matter. So what’s anything matter? It doesn’t,” Nikki says, running fingers along the mattress.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you matter,” Tommy says, taking hold of Nikki’s rambling hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks…..” he shrugs. “Hey. Are you up for something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nikki, I don’t know if I’m ready. You know. It’s a school night, and I need to digest some of this. I… shit…. I--”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have to do that. Let me show you something,” Nikki whispers.</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t know. Like I want to. Like badly, but I--”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, I won’t go there. Do you trust me? “</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Get up on my bed. On your back,” Nikki says, getting up. “Can I take your sweatpants down?’</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods, with some reluctance.</p><p> </p><p>Before pulling his pants down, Nikki climbs up on top of him to straddle his hips. He leans forward and kisses Tommy’s lips, then pulls away. “Just trust me. I’m not going to go in there. I promise. OK?” That bending forward action hurts, but Nikki doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for something like this.</p><p> </p><p>“You feel so good on me now. We can just grind.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you messed your drawers far too many times. Let me do ya one better,” Nikki says, moving himself off so he can pull off Tommy’s sweats.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki’s grin goes wide, and he hardly takes notice of his tongue dancing across his lips. “You’re amazing. Best I’ve ever seen,” Nikki whispers, as he returns to the bed, inching up from the bottom to get between Tommy’s legs. “Pull your knees up, and open ‘em for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy does what he’s told, closing his eyes, nervously waiting to see what Nikki is planning. He feels his friend moving in closer, and opens his eyes again, picking his head up to see. Nikki is kneeling between his legs. He runs his thumbs on Tommy’s creases; he shivers, followed by the feeling of soft kisses on his inner thighs.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki then takes hold of Tommy’s shaft, and puts firm pressure on it. The drummer tenses up with pleasure. “More of that later. Open more for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy feels uncomfortably exposed, but whatever Nikki has for him, he wants it now more than anything.  He watches the moonlight dance off of Nikki’s shiny, silky, flattened hair. He’s looking so damn sexy right now.</p><p> </p><p>Once Tommy opens his legs further, Nikki palms his balls, and lifts them up to find what he’s looking for. Tommy grunts at the touch, and is jolted when he feels Nikki’s fingers dancing around behind his sack, pressing on the skin.</p><p> </p><p>“You feel that?” Nikki asks.</p><p> </p><p>“What is that?</p><p> </p><p>“P-spot, baby. I can stim you from the outside. Just know that it feels 10x’s better from the inside.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki continues to massage Tommy’s prostate with his fingers, and then leans forward to also take Tommy’s cock into his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy moans with pleasure, and now reaches down to run his fingers through Nikki’s softened hair.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes, Tommy tells Nikki that he wants to cum.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki backs off. “Hold it, baby. I know you can do it.” He brings his face back down between the open legs, and begins to lick Tommy from his P-spot to the back side of balls.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy groans, and bears himself down towards Nikki’s face, to push himself further into his luscious, wet tongue. “Oh god, Nikki. Don’t stop that. Lick me. Eat me. Oh god. It feels so good.” He reaches for his own shaft. Nikki gently swats him away.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t touch it. You’ll make yourself cum. Just tell me when you’re feeling it, and I’ll finish you off.”</p><p> </p><p>“OK. Ohhhhh…..”</p><p> </p><p>After another couple of minutes, Tommy starts shaking; arching his back. “Oh god, Nikki. Oh Nikki… right there. Oh god.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki finishes devouring his friend with gusto, now going back to squeezing his cock. Tommy is shuddering and choking on his own gasps. Nikki knows he triggered his spot, and quickly moves his mouth back onto Tommy’s tip, which releases almost on contact. Nikki continues to suck on it intently for about the next 5 seconds, then eases off… lapping up anything he may have missed, as Tommy begins to calm.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki picks his head up, and watches Tommy’s chest heaving, then moves his eyes to look upon his face. His hair is splayed around him, bottom lip quivering, beads of sweat rolling off his forehead, even though it’s chilly in the room. He’s perfect. Nikki gets himself back to a kneeling position, so he can dip into his own pants to beat his own. He spits into his hand. He’s so turned on, it just takes him a mere 20 seconds or so to cum, which shoots out onto Tommy’s shirt, which he never removed. Tommy watched, more than satisfied with the conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Tommy whispers, realizing now that some of his moans were probably louder than they should have been.</p><p> </p><p>“My pleasure. Truly,” Nikki breathes, leaning in, still between Tommy’s open legs to kiss him.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we should get to bed. I wish I could stay down here.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Nikki smiles, pulling himself off of Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>“See you again in a few hours,” the drummer says, putting his sweat pants back on.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki smiles again, and leaves Tommy with one more kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to tell you right now. Avoid eye contact with me tomorrow morning. I swear, I’ll break out into the biggest grin, and my mom will get suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>“OK. Whatever. Good night,” Nikki says, climbing back into his bed. He’s in pain, but more than satisfied.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy tiptoes back to his bedroom, changes his shirt, and gets back into his own bed. Now he gets it.</p><p> </p><p>------------------------</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Nikki does as Tommy asked, and avoids looking at him, as they eat breakfast; Athena is at the table, as well.</p><p> </p><p>She gets up, and brings her bowl to the sink. “Hurry up, tarts. You’re gonna miss the bus.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter. I’m driving to school.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mother! That’s not fair! He needs to drive me too!”</p><p> </p><p>“No I don’t! Mom! Seriously, no!” Tommy pleads.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, you’ll drive her on rainy days, if it’s really cold, or if she misses the bus. Fair?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Tommy grunts. “Thank god, it barely rains.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’ll miss the bus on purpose then,” Athena says, sticking her tongue out.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’ll just run you over instead,” Tommy growls.</p><p> </p><p>“Kids, that’s enough. Athena, no lingering. Go catch the bus.”</p><p> </p><p>She storms off, huffing.</p><p> </p><p>“And you, Tommy. Be kind, or we’ll take this new privilege away before it even begins.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, mom.” He says, getting up to put his own bowl in the sink; grabbing Nikki’s too. “Come on. Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>They had a few minutes to spare. It’s no fun hanging out at home, when mom is lingering around.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy hops in the van, and stretches over to pop the lock on Nikki’s side. As he’s leaning, he sees the dried up puddle of blood that was spilled out on his bench seat. It sends shivers up his spine. Tommy forgot about it. He quickly puts his book on top of the spot before Nikki can see it.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy takes a deep breath. “This is cool, man. I hope that I can find a good parking spot,” he says, backing out of the driveway.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki clicks the radio on. It’s Stevie Wonder’s “As.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy reaches his hand out to change the channel. Nikki smacks it away.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t know you liked Motown.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki shrugs. “Would you believe me if I told you that my mom dated Richard Pryor for a brief period?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait. Richard Pryor, as in the comedian?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you for real?’</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it was while we were living in Lake Tahoe.”</p><p> </p><p>“You lived there too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Told you, I lived all over. Anyway, my mom was working at a casino, and they met there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit. So like you actually met him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. He was one of the nice ones. Like, he made my mother happy. He was at our high rise apartment a handful of times. My sister was living with us at the time, and Richard would switch the motown station on whenever he came by. One day, this song came on, and he took hold of my mother, and danced around the room with her. I’m not sure if I’ve seen her laugh and smile so much. They looked so glamorous together, as they moved about. Richard let go of my mom, and took my little sister’s hands. She just laughed and squealed. He went back to my mom, and I took my sister in my arms. We laughed and danced. There’s just a handful of times when my mother was fun to be around. That was one of them,” Nikki recalls, tapping a cigarette out of the box, and lighting up.</p><p> </p><p>“Why’d they break up?”</p><p> </p><p>“As good as he was to her. He was also bad. There was rarely a day when they weren’t high or drunk together. And it wasn’t abnormal for them to just disappear for a few days, leaving me to care for my sister. He was nice, but they we’re too far lost into their blizzard of cocaine and booze to make anything lasting between themselves. It was really pretty fucked.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your mom was a coke addict?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only a coke addict would leave a 12 year old and 5 year old home alone for days.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy glances over, and sees a glassy shimmer in Nikki’s eyes, as he burns down his cigarette. He reaches over and takes hold of Nikki’s hand. Nikki curls his fingers into Tommy’s. Then looks over, smiles, and sings a single line, <em>“Until we dream of life</em> <em>and life becomes a dream.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Tommy presses back into Nikki’s hand,  It’s the first time they’ve held hands just to hold hands, only pulling apart to shift. Between gears, they rest them on the seat, on top of the book, on top of the spilled blood.</p><p> </p><p>-------------------</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15 - Too Young to Fall in Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Have you ever heard of the word romantic? Well, that’s not you!"</p>
<p>Fuck that girl. Tommy just needs the right stimulus. Cue Nikki.</p>
<p>----------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rest of the week at school was uneventful. It’s Friday, and Tommy paces around outside the school, waiting for Nikki, so they can go home. About 15 minutes have passed from the time that they usually meet up. Nikki finally comes dashing out the door, towards Tommy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, man. I got held up. My shop teacher is pretty cool. We were talking about music. He plays bass you know, and well he brought one in today. Let me try it. It felt good in my hands,” Nikki pours out, as they walk towards the van.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Neato. I guess it would have been nice of me to pull the van up and wait, but I wasn’t sure when you were going to be coming out. I didn’t want you to think I left without you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t think that. I’d just walk to the van, and assume that you’d be waiting there for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll always wait, OK? Um, plans for this weekend?” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah… well, Cindy wants me to come by tonight. I guess I’m back to being fuckable," Nikki says, tapping on fading injury on his face. "Her parents are going to their friends’ house to play some lame card game. London Bridge or something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just bridge.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a stupid name for a stupid game.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. My mom has friends that she plays with during their coffee klatsch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm not completely sure. Like a bunch of yapping, gossipy women playing cards and drinking shitty Folgers Instant coffee or something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Parents do some fucked up shit in these parts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Better than drugs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” Nikki snaps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t tell you these things so that you can make me feel like an ass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it. It just kind of blew my mind, Nik. About the drugs. I mean, I know that kids do them and shit, but to hear that about someone’s mom. It just surprised me, is all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not so much different than your suburban mom housing Valium.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She was just stressed!” Tommy barks. “You know, moving here was hard for her. She didn’t even know English. That gossip circle shit was a little bright spot for her, finding a few friends who accepted her with her broken English.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. I get it. I’m sorry. I guess everyone’s a little fucked up, or a lot,” Nikki says, as they arrive at the van. He leans up against it, looking down, kicking at gravel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy stands in front of him. “I guess we both have a lot to learn about each other. Please don’t ever think that I’m judging you, or poking fun. We’re just different, and I sometimes just…. I don’t know. I want to know everything about you. And the things you’ve already told me, I process the info, and mull on it, and I guess it spews back out in the wrong way. I’m not the best at organizing my thoughts. I think you’ve had a lot of experiences that I didn’t, and um, well, they’re just things that I think about, that are sometimes kind of neat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom on drugs is neat?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not that, but like fishing with your grandpa and living in different places. Reading and writing. And actually wanting your sister around. And Richard Pryor.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t envy me, Tom. Maybe in some ways my life sounds glamorous. It’s not. At least not most of it. Yeah, there were some good things, but it’s the bad shit that whispers stuff in my head all day long. I think that I’m a pretty twisted person. I’m not used to people wanting me around. I envy what you got with your family. I like being there, and I only got a week left.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to leave,” Tommy says, with a look of concern.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on. Let’s get in,” Nikki says, as they get into the vehicle, and close the doors. “Tommy, I don’t have money to pay rent. Maybe for a week. But, I’m gonna have to find a job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you can get something easy, like McDonalds or something at the mall,” Tommy suggests, staying put, parked on the road for the moment, so he can enjoy a relaxing smoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not working at fast food or the mall. There’s a liquor store that I’ve been keeping my eye on. It’s closer to my house. I guess I’d have to get a bus or something. They said they’d hire me when I turn 18, which is soon. But, I can’t do that and school. It leaves me no time for music.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s that mean? Maybe I can talk to my parents to give you another week without rent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what it means. I just know that I don’t want to go home. And I don’t want to drop out; at least not right now. But I just don’t know what to do. I’m starting to let it consume me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The stereo.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I want that in the worst way, plus I’m not even sure that I can admit this, but I kinda don’t mind this school so much,” Nikki shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coz of me,” Tommy grins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. And well, I have some teachers that actually see beyond my exterior and bad grades; my coach for one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard he’s leaving.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Today was his last day,” Nikki face drops. “Personal reasons,” he sighs. “But there’s also my shop teacher. I hate to disappoint him by dropping out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wood shop? Metal shop? Or automotive?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Metal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit. Careful, Nik.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s just rumors. Maybe they’re not true, but he didn’t earn the name Backdoor Moore for nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you saying?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just saying watch your ass, literally.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You just can’t wait to put a nail in the coffin for everyone who shows me some sort of attention, can you? You always wanna be the hero, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I’m just saying that the guy is slime. Don’t want to see you get hurt is all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re wrong! He sees talent in me!” Nikki yells, getting out of the van, walking away, down the sidewalk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy gets out of the van. “Nikki! Come back! I didn’t mean to….” Tommy is overcome with a sense of complete defeat as Nikki continues down the sidewalk, getting further away. He gets back into the van, and holds his head. Nothing is coming out of his mouth right today. He’s just going to sit there and wait.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sits and waits and waits. He finished his homework for the weekend. He had to get out, and go a block down to the corner deli to get a cold soda. He spends the rest of the time thinking, and running his fingers over the dried blood stain; tears rolling down on occasion. Finally after about 2 hours, the van door opens, and Nikki hops in. He lights up, and doesn’t say a word.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s relieved. He starts the van up, and drives home; not saying anything either, but he offers his hand again. Nikki accepts it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They pull into the driveway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got a job,” Nikki says, breaking the silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I found another liquor store around here. For one hour every night from Sunday to Thursday, I’ll go in and sweep the floors and clean the plate glass. I can stock the sodas and tonics, candy and chips, and shit. I just can’t handle the liquor yet. But when I turn 18, I can pick up more hours and even work the register.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s great, Nikki,” Tommy says, actually meaning it. With a job, he might be able to stay, and the hours seem easy, so he can probably stay in school too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Neither one says anything about the argument, as they enter the house. Tommy’s mother comes into the living room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was wondering when you might get home. Did you eat?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, mom. Nikki got a job today after school.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. How wonderful, Nikki. I hope that you’ll be able to maintain your studies. What will you be doing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing much, ma’am. Just sweeping floors at a store and stocking. Only for about an hour a day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which store?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The A+ Liquor Store.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s mother puts her fingers to her mouth. It’s a quiet way to express disapproval, as she contemplates something to say in response. “I didn’t know that children could work at such places.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom, we’re not children anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Teenagers. There’s a difference.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, Tommy. Come unload the dishwasher, while I pare some fruit for you. You too, Nikki. I believe that there’s some jobs out there more fitting for a young man, your age.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. But, I’ll just be sweeping mostly. I'm starting in about a week. I should be feeling better by then. My ribs still hurt, but the swelling has gone down.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, be sure to mind your school work, and don’t take on too much, too soon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” Nikki says, feeling a little bummed at the tone of disappointment. He thought the job would be a good thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki are sitting at the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you going to Cindy’s?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“After dinner, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tommy sighs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should come with me,” Nikki suggests, that sly grin creeping up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got ideas. Just come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK, maybe I will,” Tommy smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Bass arrives home. He always gets home about an hour earlier than usual on Fridays.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi-ya boys. I got a surprise for both of you tomorrow. 10am, sharp!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it, dad?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll find out at 10am. Dress appropriately.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Appropriate for what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Button up shirts and slacks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, I don’t have any slacks here,” Nikki says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Bass looks Nikki up and down. Tommy will lend you a pair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, dad. What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Report to the living room, be on time, and look sharp.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy exhales loudly, in protest. “Come on, let’s go up to my room. Betcha it’s bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, on the way to Cindy’s</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think she’s gonna freak when she sees me with you,” Tommy says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Naw, she’s a horny bitch. And I’ll just tell her that you had to drive me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive together, and Cindy looks at both of them skeptically when they step in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s Tommy doing here? I didn’t know you two were friends.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, now you know that we are, and remember, I don’t have a car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles. “It’s OK, I guess. Tommy and I go way back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, like way back to homeroom this year,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve known each other longer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You never talked to me until you found out that I…. well, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You like Tommy’s big cock?” Nikki asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be so crass, Nikki,” the girl says, slapping him on the chest [ouch]. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to hold up your end of the bargain, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I need Mick’s phone number. And don’t act all innocent, like you don’t know why I’m here. Tommy already knows that you want to fuck me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Nikki. I never said that. You’re so disgusting sometimes,” Cindy says, putting on an Eagles album.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what the hell am I doing here? Give me the fucking number so we can leave. Or I stay and we can fuck. Tommy can watch us…... or join us,” Nikki says, like it’s all no biggie, putting on his crooked grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy flashes Nikki a </span>
  <em>
    <span>what-the-fuck...are-you-on-crack</span>
  </em>
  <span> look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe since you’re both here. What do you want Tommy?” Cindy breathes seductively in his direction, as “Witchy Woman” plays in the background.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe just Mick’s phone number,” Tommy says, biting his nail.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cindy huffs. “You’re always so lame, Tommy Bass. I just thought that maybe I could go for another test drive… you know,” she says, licking her lips, as she unties the knot in her halter top.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While she’s talking, Nikki takes his shirt off and tosses it. He knows exactly what the drummer needs to get his motor purring.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s breath hitches, as he watches Nikki also unfasten the fly on his jeans. The bass player sits on the brown shag carpeting, and pulls Cindy onto his lap, facing him, her legs wrapped around. He pulls her halter top off, and immediately starts to suck on her exposed breasts, as she arches her back, and moans, gripping the ends of his hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s pants are filling up. It’s all Nikki. It’s Nikki’s chest, the way he’s lapping her up and using his tongue, his forthrightness, the top of his deep V exposed. Tommy wants to be the one straddling him. He watches intently, and starts to mindlessly lick his lips and unfasten his own pants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cindy takes notice, and calls him over with a finger wag, naturally assuming that it’s her that he wants. Tommy knows that he can’t act out on his true desire, so he sits behind Cindy, so that her ass is between his open legs, which are also crossed on top of Nikki’s extended legs. Tommy starts to suck on the base of her neck, making sure that at least one of his hands is overlapping Nikki’s, his other wrapped around her, to fondle her breast, holding one up for Nikki to enjoy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, lay down on the floor. And take your clothes off,” Nikki commands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy doesn’t question it. Once he’s on the floor, Nikki guides Cindy to lay back on Tommy, between his legs, so that he can remove her pants and panties. He then instructs her to straddle the drummer…. and ride him. Something Nikki would like to do himself. He knows it’s only a matter of time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is ready for her, and it’s only because he’s hard for Nikki. And he thinks to himself that maybe he’ll show-off a little bit, and give Cindy a good fuck; something that he was never able to deliver to her prior. The girl mounts him and is already moaning and carrying on about how good he feels. Nikki pushes Cindy forward, more towards Tommy’s chest, so that her ass sticks out. After removing his own pants, he fishes the lube out of the pocket before tossing them and slicks his finger up, and without any warning he puts a finger into the girl’s back hole. She yells out in pain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow Nikki! Oh my god. You need to tell me what you’re going to do. That hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna make you feel good in a minute.” Tommy is watching her pained face turn into desire. It makes him hungry for Nikki’s touch, and although he’s been nervous and unsure about anal sex, he can only wish now that it was him being fingered by Nikki and not her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki soon pushes her further down on top of Tommy, kneeling behind her by spreading his legs over Tommy’s, then he pushes himself in. She yelps again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Nikki. You’re crushing me, and stopping my momentum with Tommy!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you just need to shut the fuck up, and let me and Tommy take care of you,” Nikki says, while thrusting feverishly into her. He perches one hand on the back of her shoulder and the other on the drummer’s bicep, knowing he would enjoy the touch. Tommy’s feeling flattened against the floor and is having a bit of a hard time gaining his rhythm back; he can barely move at this point. He decides to try to pull his knees up to give himself some leverage to be able to buck his hips again. It helps. It would help even more if he could spread his legs apart further for better control, but with both Cindy and Nikki straddling him, he’s really limited in movement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite Tommy’s restrictions, Cindy is moaning and panting in her sweet, feminine voice, sandwiched between the two 6 foot wannabe rockers, and not long after, Cindy has hit her climax. Her gasping and shuddering doesn’t do it for Tommy, but when he hears Nikki moan and arch his back into a sensual pose for a moment, it’s enough for him to release with his own groans and vibrations. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki pulls out, and wraps his arms around Cindy once more, biting onto her neck for one final marking of his redolence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cindy leans down to connect with Tommy’s lips. He reciprocates. She then lifts herself up off of him, smiling as she dismounts his majestic member. She turns her attention to Nikki, who has let himself down on the floor, and is laying there on his back splayed out, similar to what Tommy is doing. Cindy leans over him to connect her lips with him too, as Tommy then pulls himself up into a sitting position. He stretches, and twists his back to work out kinks, suddenly feeling like he’s had enough of CIndy’s cherry lips on that pout that belongs to him, not her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So can we have Mick’s number?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cindy sits back on her knees, and exhales sharply. “You sure know how to kill a mood, quickly, don’t you? I shoulda known things with you were too good to be true,” the girl blares, gesturing with her hands. “Have you ever heard of the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>romantic</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Well, that’s not you. </span>
  <b>But,</b>
  <span> Mr. Tommy Bass, someone has been giving you some lessons, haven’t they? I noticed,” she says, with a sly smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lessons?” Tommy gulps, eyeballing Nikki with his aloof smile looking towards Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, whatever. Maybe the band geek has some moves after all?” Cindy chirps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki sits up, reaching for his shirt. “Tommy is right, you know. We need Mick’s number.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going from exciting to boring. Mick is the most boring person I know. All he wants to do is play scales, sling insults, and fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing boring about fucking,” Nikki says, scouting round for his pants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone gets dressed. “You guys wanna snack, and we’ll see what’s on for a Friday night movie? Plus this,” Cindy says, pulling her hand out from a deep crevice in the plaid patterned couch where a joint was stashed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki is game. Tommy isn’t sure. They got this thing going on with his dad tomorrow morning, and last time he smoked, he got kind of fucked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll pass on the weed. It makes me nauseous, “ Tommy says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it does, Tommy,” Cindy rolls her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Before any of this shit. Gimme that number,” Nikki demands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. I have to go look in my sister’s address book. I’ll be right back,” Cindy says, her usual ass swish in full effect as she goes up the steps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you OK with staying for a little while. I could kind of use a little doping up,” Nikki shrugs, massaging the back of his neck and shoulder with his own hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. And then maybe we can cut out soon. I kinda wanna….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kinda wanna, what?” Nikki beams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just spend a little alone time with you,” Tommy says, with the cutest smile ever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t say no to that,” Nikki leans in to sneak in a kiss before Cindy returns.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roughly 90 minutes later, Nikki and Tommy are leaving Cindy’s house, pulling away in the van.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That was pretty hot, Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The movie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah Rocky’s busted up face gets me going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo Adrienne, I thought maybe he reminded you of me a week ago.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all. And don’t call me Adrienne. You wear a black eye much better than he does. And your busted lip was still totally kissable. I’m obviously talking about the threesome.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She is a nice looking girl. Even if she is a fake, overly dramatic bimbo.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Nikki, you know that it really wasn’t her who was turning me on. If you weren’t there, it would have been another embarrassing failure on my part. But, thanks to you, I think I redeemed myself. A little anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll give you a 10 out of 10 for each of your inches.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I get an 11.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You wish.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to measure for accuracy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As soon as you give me another chance. I’ll use my tongue as a ruler,” Nikki grins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about right now?” Tommy says, pulling into a parking lot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At the grocery store?” Nikki questions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. In the meat packing department,” Tommy says, chewing on his lip, as he finds a place to park away from the late night foot traffic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel free to use the butcher’s twine on me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, follow me into the back,” Tommy says, hoisting himself over the front seat towards the cargo area. Nikki follows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy positions himself on the thin dirty mattress. Nikki wastes no time climbing on top of him to kiss and grind; immediately cradling the drummer into himself and devouring his lips and neck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy tries to steady his breathing. There’s a knot in his stomach. It takes him a minute, but eventually he’s able to tell Nikki, “I want you to fuck me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki props himself up on his arms. “You sure you’re ready?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all I thought about when we were with Cindy. I wanted to be her just for those 10 minutes, and have you doing all of that to me instead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki strokes Tommy’s hair near his brow. “I’ll be gentle with you. I promise. What I did to her, we’ve done before, and well… gentle isn’t my thing with her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods, swallowing hard. “I got those wipes,” Tommy says out of nervousness, attempting to point to where they’re stashed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK,” Nikki smiles. “I care about you. I want you to love what I do, as much as I’ll love doing it.” Nikki can’t help but to mark him all over with hungry kisses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy soaks it in, hanging on the words that just passed through Nikki’s lips, </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair make quick work undressing themselves. Nikki pulls the lube out that he had in his pocket from before. Another wave of nervousness washes over Tommy, but he’s not turning back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look nervous,” Nikki observes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that I am, but I’m not going to spend the rest of the night envying someone like Cindy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing to envy. She’s just a fancy fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what’s that make me?” Tommy dares to ask.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki doesn’t answer. He really doesn’t know how to answer that. This deeply means something to him, but he can't put any of it into words. To distract Tommy from waiting for an answer, he leans back in to kiss him some more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy enjoys Nikki’s lips all over him, but he still has to wonder what he is to Nikki. A friend? A fuck? A project? Perhaps something more? But, he’s is beginning to understand that this is a typical Nikki response, just like when he asked him what he whether he was gay, bi, or straight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki keeps the kisses coming for another minute or two, sensing that it’s been long enough for the last question to allowably be dismissed. He sits back on his heels and loads his finger up with lube.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I? I’ll put some on you first,” Nikki says holding his finger up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods, unable to get himself to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>OK. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He inhales, holds his breath, and grips the mattress; first feeling Nikki smearing him with lube.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki,” Tommy whispers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bassist leans down, and whispers back. “I got you, baby,” and kisses again as he pushes his finger inward.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy gasps and tenses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re OK. I promise,” Nikki says, going in just far enough to press on Tommy's P-spot. “You move down on me when you’re ready,” Nikki says, stroking Tommy’s hair near his temple.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It hurts, but not as badly as he anticipated. It’s more so the awkwardness of it that’s preventing Tommy from moving himself, as Nikki suggested. “Nikki, you do what you need to do, OK?” Tommy says, determined to push through any pain, and to let Nikki take the lead of the process.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. I’ll let you know when I’m going to do something different. All this will lead us to having sex with each other,” Nikki smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what Tommy wants so badly. He can’t wait. Sex with Nikki. Oh god, he’s going to be having sex with Nikki. This is what he’s been dreaming about, or at least trying to dream about; and now it’s happening. Be brave, Tommy Lee Bass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After several minutes, Nikki has moved up to having 3 fingers inserted. Tommy has been panting and contorting his face at times, but now seems more relaxed. His gasps are sounding more like they're from pleasure, rather than pain. Nikki has been coddling him with reassurance, the whispering of sweet nothings, and love-laced kisses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, for your first time, I suggest we do it missionary-style. You know there’s a world of positions out there to try. We’ll get to those some day. For now, you just gotta pull your legs back, and once I’m in, you can relax them a bit, around my body. We’ll be face to face.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I want. I want to see you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki smiles, reaching behind him to squeeze more lube out for his cock and for Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki leans forward, kissing Tommy again. “Pull your legs back. Hold them under your thighs until I’m in. Take a deep breath, baby. You and I are going to be having sex with each other for the first time in just a few seconds.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy does as Nikki asked, breathing heavily with anticipation. He closes his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki lines himself up,” It’s me,” Nikki says, as he presses on Tommy and pushes in, watching Tommy’s reaction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drummer yelps, arching his back, and starts quivering.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re alright. Yeah? Nod to let me know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods, and gasps more as Nikki pushes in further, and gently starts to thrust.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my baby. Breath, OK? Open your eyes and look at me. We’re having sex, baby doll.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy opens his eyes. He feels like he can pass out right now from pure desire. Yes, Nikki is inside of him. Yes, they are having sex, and it feels just like one of his dream. Except it’s not, it’s real. It’s Nikki rolling his hips between his legs. It’s Nikki breathing down on him; his electric green eyes focused on him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can relax your legs. I’m in, so you can let go. You can touch me too. Go ahead, let go of the mattress and put your hands on me. I need to feel them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy takes his hands off of his thighs, and drops them just a bit. He puts one hand on Nikki’s back, stroking his skin. The other finds its way onto his ass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it, touch me,” Nikki moans. “Pull me in more if you want. Dig in if you need to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted you. I wanted you inside of me. Oh god, Nikki. You feel so good,” Tommy pants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You too. I love fucking your sexy ass,” Nikki says, with a low exhale. “You’re so sexy, drummer. You turn me on. Tell me you like what I’m doing, baby. Tell me how good my cock feels inside you. It’s so hard just for you,” Nikki breathes, between thrusts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You make me feel so good. Please tell me that this never has to end. I never felt so good before. I want you deep inside of me. I love your body, Nikki,” Tommy says, gripping onto flesh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki leans in to kiss Tommy, holding onto his shoulder to steady himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two enjoy each other’s bodies for a dreamy length of time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please never stop, Nikki,” Tommy utters, starting to shake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you getting there? Oh my god. Please have an orgasm for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes? Oh yes. Do that for me, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy starts gasping, bowing his back, and squeezing the skin on Nikki’s back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my sexy boy. Oh god, you’re so beautiful, baby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Trembling, Tommy reaches for his own cock, which was kept feeling good by the friction of Nikki’s belly grinding on it as they fucked. Tommy takes hold of himself, gives it a few pumps, and let’s himself go, with a moan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki can’t hold himself anymore cumming fiercely inside Tommy. Not bothering to ask whether that was OK. He holds himself up by his arms over Tommy’s body, as he settles himself down, eyes closed, deep breaths pouring from his open mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki opens his eyes and sees his handsome Tommy flush and sweaty, taking in shaky breaths, and then sees what Tommy spilled out on himself. He can’t help but to lap it up, which elicits another moan from Tommy, as his belly is licked clean. Nikki lays himself on his side next to the drummer, catching his breath, stroking his hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Nikki. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I loved that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I should thank you. I’ve been wanting that for a long time. The wait was worth it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do it to you someday. Soon, I hope.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I would love that. Really, I can’t wait.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Soon. I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK,” Nikki smiles, nuzzling his head in towards Tommy’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You call me your baby. Am I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re my baby, Tommy,” Nikki whispers, twisting a lock of the brunette’s hair between his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to be mine,” Tommy says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere,” Nikki replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But, can you be mine?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never belonged to anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to belong to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you, I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it because you still want to be with other people?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care about other people. It’s not that,” Nikki says, picking his head up, tracing Tommy’s lips with his finger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just never been anything but a loner. It comes with freedom. I need my freedom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Free to be with others?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, free to chase my dreams.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought that I was part of that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why can’t you be mine?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, no one has ever leashed me or tamed me, and no one ever will. I’m wild at heart. But I want you along for the ride. All the way; right by my side. There’s only one you. And one me. And maybe something drove us together. We take this journey together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in,” Tommy says, discouraged by the fact that Nikki can never give a firm answer on any important questions. More frustrated by the fact that he just accepts it. Yet on the same token, he’s so drawn and enamoured by this mysterious, spiky, raven-haired freak that he knows he would use his teeth to clean dirt from underneath Nikki’s toenails right now if he simply told him that it’s something he should do. He knows he would do anything Nikki asks. He might be a tad obsessed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy lays off of his question, not wanting the warm afterglow to turn icy. He pulls the stiff blanket up over their naked bodies and closes his eyes. They run their fingers along the other’s body to soothe each other in the quiet darkness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back home now, they kiss good night in the darkened house at the bottom of the steps. Tommy starts to head upstairs, feeling satisfied in body and ready for bed. Knowing he has to get up a little earlier than normal on a Saturday for his dad’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’ll come down and wake you up around 9:30, OK? I’ll bring pants down for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. See you then.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki goes to his bedroom. He didn’t let on, but he’s hurting badly. The pain in his ribs has flared up. He’s quite sure that a doctor would have told him to lay off from strenuous activity, including sex, if he had actually gone to see one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On an upnote, his split eyebrow, Voula’s other concern, isn’t looking so bad. Yeah, there might be a small scar at the end of it all, but nothing that screams Frankenstein’s monster. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy made a mistake. He handed those Valium pills over to Nikki upstairs, but he forgot to take the tranquilizers in exchange. Nikki knows that one of those will knock him out. It’s not even 2am yet, he’ll have enough time to sleep it off before the 10am thing.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Wild Dogs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"What is this, the babysitter’s club? Fuck you! Stop wasting my time!”</p>
<p>Tommy and Nikki look at each other and shrug. Maybe the guy has a point.</p>
<p>---------------</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wild Dogs is a short instrumental song found on a rare early Shout demo cassette. The song was never recorded and not available to hear. It's been suggested that it was incorporated into the song Bastard or Danger.</p>
<p>-------------</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy wakes up around 9:15. He stretches, getting out of bed, stopping to take a look in the mirror. He winds up staring at himself for longer than he expected. He feels different. He feels good. More alive…. more true.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking in his closet, he sees his brown pants that he wore to the dance a few weeks ago. He puts those on, and thinks that a green button-down shirt will go well. Seems like a natural color-combination. Preening in front of the mirror, he knows why…. he looks like a damn tree. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Tommy says outloud. But…. who gives a shit, it’s 9:30 now.  He’s supposed to get Nikki up, and still needs to brush his teeth. He grabs some black pants for Nikki, and gets to the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Tommy gets down to Nikki’s room, it’s close to 9:40. He shakes him awake, but he’s not waking up easily…... again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki. Wake up. Come on. Wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki moans and tries to roll over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, man. You gotta wake the fuck up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha??” Nikki says in a dreadfully, dreary voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki, we have to be upstairs in a little bit. Did you take something again?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What??” Nikki repeats, trying to keep his eyes open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuckin’A, Nikki. Get up!” Tommy says, starting to pull him up by his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m up,” he grunts, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s your shirt?” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Shirt?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude! We have that stupid thing with my dad in like 15 minutes! Remember? Button down shirt, fuckin’ slacks. Don’t be late, he said.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh… yeah. Uh, I got a shirt with buttons somewhere,” Nikki says, still holding his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll find it. Put these on,” Tommy says, throwing the pants on Nikki’s head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drummer rummages through the drawers and finds a white shirt with buttons.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This one?” Tommy says, holding it out.  Nikki is still working on pulling the pants off of his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that mine?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I just pulled it from your clothes. What the fuck did you take? Please don’t say one of the elephant pills.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, maybe. I don’t know. My ribs were hurting,” Nikki mumbles, trying to get his foot into the correct pants leg.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. I’m sorry. Some of that’s my fault, I guess. Let me help you,” Tommy says. He wraps the shirt around Nikki’s bare torso, and threads his arms through.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom, I look like a waiter,” Nikki comments,  finally getting both legs into the pants. Realizing that he’s dressed in black and white.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I look like I should be frolicking around in the forest,” Tommy snickers, fluttering his fingers about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Nikki cracks smiles, followed by a goofy laugh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what, we should switch pants,” Tommy says, already unfastening his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just got these on,” Nikki protests, as if threading his feet through the legs was a major accomplishment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No you didn’t. You didn’t even pull them up yet,” the drummer remarks, as he pulls his pants off his legs, balancing on one foot at a time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that’s more like it,” Nikki says, looking at Tommy in his briefs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just give me the fucking pants. Time’s ticking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki pulls the black pants off, and finally gets to his feet. Tommy, standing there in underwear and a shirt [future Risky Business style] is his incentive to stand. He wraps his arms around him, leaning in for a kiss, while he pushes his groin in towards Tommy’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, man. We can’t. We got like 10 minutes or less,” Tommy says, breathlessly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the sound of sharp rapping on the door, that actually causes Tommy to jump and step back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“10am SHARP!” yells Tommy’s dad through the door, when it’s suddenly opened up. Both boys are still just in shirts and underwear; Nikki’s shirt not even buttoned yet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, dad. We were just…. uh, the pants didn't fit right. We're swapping."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s dad, not suspectful of anything between the pair, sees this more just as a locker room type situation. “You have 8 minutes! Get yourselves to the living room. And tuck your shirts in!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Bass leaves. Tommy swallows hard. He’s flush and has broken out into a cold sweat, terrified that they were on the verge of being caught. Taking a deep breath to realize that they’re still OK, and haven’t been found out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, man! That was too close. Come on, get the damn pants on!” Tommy demands, pulling the black ones on himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki, a little more awake now, after the yelling, gets the brown pants pulled up, and fastened. Nikki adjusts his junk, not used to the tight front of polyester pants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They fit OK?” Tommy asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. I feel tight here,” Nikki says, holding his package.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The girls like when I wear those motherfuckers,” Tommy smiles, staring down at Nikki. He takes a step towards him, buttons his shirt up for him, then helps him to tuck it in.</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know we’re like twins,” Nikki smiles. “Same size. Same height. We fit well together,” Nikki says, with his droopy eyelids, advancing on Tommy again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I agree,” Tommy says, putting his hand out and stepping back to physically stop Nikki’s advance. “But not now,” he says in a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy checks himself in the mirror, and turns back to inspect Nikki. “You look out of it, man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki shrugs. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, go brush your teeth and run a comb across your head. I’ll be right back, in like 2 minutes. Be ready, OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is a blur as he races from the back room up to his bedroom, and back down, in record time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They have 2 minutes, and Tommy sees Nikki putting his toothbrush down in the bathroom. “Here, take these?” he says, holding a few crosstops out to Nikki, who takes them from him. He then uses his hands to attempt to tame Nikki’s unruly hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speed?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It should balance you out, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” Nikki says, popping the pills down with a dry swallow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy gives up on Nikki’s hair. “Let’s go. I don’t need my dad being a dick about being late.” They arrive in the living room, with a minute to spare. Tommy breathes and focuses on what’s before them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck! Tommy thinks to himself, as a combination of disappointment and anger wells up in him. There’s a fucking recruiter sitting on the couch. Are you fucking kidding me?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Boys! Meet Cadet Lieutenant Gordon,” Mr. Bass says, beaming.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad?” Tommy says, with a glare. “I said that--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cadet Lieutenant Gordon is not with the military, but rather the Junior ROTC. It’s an excellent program designed just for young men like you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Lieutenant extends his hand to shake. The boys reciprocate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please sit,” the Lt. says. “I have a fine presentation prepared for you. By the end, I am certain that you will agree that the Junior ROTC is the right program for fine young men, such as yourselves.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An hour later,  they are seated at the dining room table with the Lt. and a bunch of forms in front of them. But not before listening to the most droning speech in the world, receiving a zillion handouts, and watching a tortuous slide show which was far worse than Aunt Mae’s trips to national parks. Nikki fell asleep during the presentation. Tommy had to nudge him a few times.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, young men, it would be in your best interests to fill out these informational forms so that we can place you on our mailing list. We have open house events coming soon, and you’ll be able to see for yourself the things that the Junior ROTC has to offer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lieutenant sir, I don’t think this program is for me. I have other dreams that I want to pursue,” Nikki says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Junior ROTC is for everyone,” the Lt. says, looking hard at Nikki. “Unless you fail to meet our entrance standards. A 2.5 GPA is necessary.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, well, I’m sorry Lieutenant sir, to have wasted your time. I’m not even close to that,” Nikki says, with a smug smirk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Never a waste of time. It’s not too late to pull yourself together, son….. maybe,” the recruiter says, throwing Nikki a skeptical glance. “But, young Mr. Bass here, now you surely have maintained your good grades, haven’t you. Why being the son of a fine member of our armed forces, I would expect that you have a keen sense of standards to live by.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir, but you see, I--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cadet Lieutenant Gordon, my son Thomas will be filling out these forms. And we will be visiting the grounds at the next recruitment open house.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad. I don’t--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fill them out, son. Let me talk with the Lt. in private.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the two men step out of the dining room, Tommy pounds his fist on the table. “They can make me fill this shit out, but I’m not doing this,” Tommy spits, whipping the pen in his hand across the room. “I’m not. Fuck this bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They can’t make you go,” Nikki whispers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two adults speak among themselves; determining that Tommy is a fine prospect, and that Nikki doesn’t fit the standards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sgt. Bass, if I may share my observation with you? Young Mr. Feranna is a drug user. We are trained to recognize signs and symptoms of drug use. That, along with his grades, make him ineligible for the program.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so? It doesn’t surprise me,” Mr. Bass says, stroking his chin. “The boy comes from a broken home. Kids like that are often riddled with problems. He’s only staying with us temporarily.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll want to be sure not to enable his behavior, by allowing him too many freedoms and luxuries of a comfortable suburban life. However, your son Thomas is a fine example of the type of young man we look for to enlist in the program. He’ll just need a proper haircut. I would suggest bringing him to our very next Open House event.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two men finish the conversation. The lieutenant packs up his materials, making sure he tells Tommy that he looks forward to seeing him again, before he leaves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Bass walks into the dining room. “Nicholas, you’re excused and if you can please go to your room. Tommy, I’d like to talk to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Nikki says, getting up. He gives Tommy a sympathetic look as he leaves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom, you’ll be finishing that paperwork, and I’ll be registering you for the next Junior ROTC open house event.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I’m not doing this,” Tommy affirms, leaning back in his chairs with his arms crossed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you are. I don’t like the recent path you’ve been on; staying out late, arguing, and hanging out with drug users.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not hanging out with drug users, and you can’t make me sign up for this shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nicholas is using drugs, isn’t he? The lieutenant could tell by his eyes and body language.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, he’s not using. He’s in pain, and has been taking sleeping pills so that he can fall asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Most sleeping pills are barbiturates, which are addictive drugs,” Mr. Bass persists.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s only trying to find a way to sleep through his pain.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mother suggested that he go see a doctor for his ribs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One, he doesn’t have money, and he didn’t want to involve his mother. Two, a doctor would have simply prescribed him pain pills. Nearly the same damn thing. But, I guess that makes it OK, because a paper prescription slides in between the drugs and the patient? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t think that someone like Nicholas, who comes from a broken home with no father, is the type of person you should be investing in. You have much greater potential, and I don’t want some poor kid like that influencing your direction in life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, he has nothing to do with me not wanting to go into the military or ROTC! I’ve been telling you since the 8th grade that I don’t want to do that, and I’m not going to!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll stop raising your voice, Thomas.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’ll stop forcing your ideals on me. You can’t make me do it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you gonna do, Tom? You don’t seem interested in college either. Are you going to make a career at McDonalds?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m starting a band and I’m going into the music business. That’s what I want to do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like Nicholas, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Got a problem with that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will not allow you to end up as street junk, like he will, by pursuing some fleeting pipedream. You need to realize that making a living and upholding an honorable name for yourself in this world is no walk in the park. You have to buckle down and work hard, or you’re going to wind up as a nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna to buckle down and work hard, and I’m going to be something, dad. Don’t force me into a place I don’t want to be. I’ll kill myself before being forced to do something that will make me miserable.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t speak that way, Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the truth, and I mean it. I have my own dreams, and I know that I can make something of myself. I at least want to try. You and mom have always told us that we can accomplish anything that we set our minds out to accomplish. I’m going to follow my own path.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t get you those drums to throw your life away! And I’m not going to watch you do it! The drums are going to go. You’ll have your marching band drums, and that’s it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, really dad?! You and mom always encouraged my talents, and now you’re trying to stop me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If I had known that those damn drums would lead you to this wrong path, I would have never allowed you to waste your time on such a novelty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a waste, and you’re not taking my drums!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not going to be able to keep them in the garage anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll keep them in my van. You’re not going to stop me from pursuing my dreams. And I’m not going to that open house!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you are!” Mr. Bass yells, back as Tommy goes out to the garage. Voula comes by, and puts her arms around her husband’s shoulders to calm him down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“David, please stop. You’re going to drive him away,” Voula pleads.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He needs to listen. He doesn’t understand what’s best for him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not, but yelling at him, and criticizing his friend? Forcing him to do things, isn’t the right way to guide him towards a better path.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When my parents told me to jump. I jumped. There was no talking back. There were no refusals. Kids today need corporal punishment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like Nicholas? The poor child,” Mrs. Bass says, walking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant. Tommy just needs to understand his place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Children are different these days. They want to be liberated and explore the world on their own. If you raise them right, they’ll do it the right way. And if they fail, they’ll know how to pick themselves up, and start again, instead of succumbing. Allow him to spread his wings, David. He’ll find his way home if he fails, as long as he knows that he’s loved and supported.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s still going to the open house, and I no longer want his drum kit here. And Nicholas, he won’t be here long term. His behavior this morning was troubling.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s talk later when you’re calm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Voula goes out to the garage, as Tommy is dismantling his drum kit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom, I’m not joining the ROTC. End of story.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Honey, your father just wants what he thinks is best for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he clearly has no idea what’s best for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, please. Just go to that open house event. It will make your father happy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is the point when I’m not doing the program?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He needs time to understand. You two can take a nice ride, and talk more calmly and openly with each other. No one can force you into the program, Tommy. But at least give your father the respect he deserves by listening to and understanding the benefits of such an upstanding program.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not for me. Nothing against the program. I just don’t want to do it, and I won’t ever enlist in the military either. Why can’t he just accept that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Give him time,” Voula says, rubbing her hand on Tommy’s back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about I make you and Nikki a late breakfast?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks mom, but no. We have somewhere to go,” Tommy says, walking out of the garage with a drum piece to put in his van.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once the drum kit is stored in the van, Tommy goes up to change. He makes a phone call, then goes down to Nikki’s room. He knocks. There’s no answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nik?” Tommy says, opening the door, seeing Nikki asleep again. He’s lying on the bed on his back with the pants unfastened. Tommy smirks, knowing Nikki didn’t like the tight feeling of those pants across his groin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nikki?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stirs, “Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you OK?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki nods, trying to keep his droopy eyes open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I called Mick. He said that we can go over there to talk about the band. Wanna go? I got his address.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Nikki says stretching. “I guess I need to wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Before you do anything else, give me the rest of those fucking pills. The speed didn’t even counteract the effect.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I only have one left.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Truth. Check the inner left pocket in my duffle bag. I didn’t buy a lot because I’m trying to save some money.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy rummages through the bag, and finds the last of the blue pills. “I’m taking this…. You know that ROTC guy told my dad that you were high. And now my dad is pissed. I told him that you took sleeping pills for the pain. Which is kind of true, although these blue motherfuckers completely control you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking. I was just hurting last night, and I thought that I’d have enough time to sleep off the effects.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Part of that is my fault. I should have waited to ask you to… well, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, it’s not your fault. I’d do it again right now… if you wanted to. The pain is worth the pleasure,” Nikki says, perking up with seduction in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy bites his lip. “You know I want to, but not here, and we’re going to at least wait another week. Why don’t we go meet up with Mick as a distraction?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, a week?” Nikki says, still looking kind of dreary, as he motions Tommy to come closer for a kiss. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy complies, giving Nikki a nice, full kiss. “I care about you, OK? And I know you hate those pants. Change, and let’s go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki get into the van to head over to Mick’s apartment in East L.A. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you playing today?” Nikki asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is your kit packed in here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, shit. Um, I didn’t get to tell you about what happened between me and my dad. He wants to get rid of my drums, so I put them in my van. They’re not his to touch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn. What are you going to do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno. It’s just such bullshit. I don’t know about you, but I’m so pissed about today. I told my dad that I’m not doing that Junior program, and he just flipped on me. Like I can’t think for myself. You know, and it sucks because it’s not like I don’t respect my parents. Like I always fucking do most of the shit that they want. I just keep my damn mouth shut, and do as they say. But, not with this. I’m doing it, and I don’t know what kind of situation that's going to put me in at home, but I just needed to get out. I hate this shit so much. I don’t want to give in, but I can’t live with my dad being eternally pissed at me either…. Not to mention disappointed. Sometimes I just want to be like you, and do what I want to do, without anyone caring.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You gotta stick to your guns on this one. You’ll figure it out,” Nikki says, tossing Tommy’s jacket in the back seat, so they can hold hands more easily. Nikki sees the blood stain on the bench seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy looks down, and swallows hard. “Um, sorry. I know. I’ve been meaning to clean it. I just keep forgetting.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it’s hard for you at home. You’ll figure it out, the right way. Not like me. I wish somebody cared about what I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sports a weak smile, taking hold of Nikki’s hand. “Today, we’re another step closer; you know with Mick. Let’s just focus on that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Agree.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki arrive at Mick’s apartment. It’s not in the best area. They knock on the door, and Mick lets them in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought maybe you forgot about me,” Mick says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.  Would have called sooner, but I had to get your phone number from Cindy, and she was taking her sweet time,” Nikki says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what do ya got today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got my songs,” Nikki says, waving his notebook around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s your bass?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, I’m still working on getting one. I’ll have one real soon,” Nikki says, feeling embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s great, Nikki. Real great,” Mick says, sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got my drums though,” Tommy says, enthusiastically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You packed up your drums? What makes you think that you can set them up here? Does it look like I have the room?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I have them because I’m not allowed to keep them in the garage anymore. So they just happen to be in my van. Convenient, right?” Tommy says, with a hopeful smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And how about the fucking singer. We got one?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but he’s grounded for one more week,” Tommy says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Grounded. You’re kidding, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, man. But two weeks down, one to go. Heh, heh,” Tommy says, all smiley.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What in the wide world of all types of epic fuckery is going on here!!” Mick shrieks, waving his arms around like a goose flapping its wings. “We got a bass player with no bass, a drummer with no place to play, and a singer who’s grounded! What is this, the babysitter’s club? Fuck you! Stop wasting my time!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki look at each other and shrug. Maybe the guy has a point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, dude, dude,” Nikki says, waving his hands downward. “Relax. That’s all water under the bridge. No worries about that shit. You liked my songs, right? I got more. Get your fucking guitar amped up and let Tommy bring his drums in. If we push the table closer to the corner, we can get it to fit. I don’t typically sing, but I’ll fill in for the singer tonight, and we can at least get a sense of something going here. What the hell else are you going to do? Wait for the next cover band to advertise for a guitar player? Good luck with that. I’ll even get you a copy of the Recycler as a parting gift if that’s what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, but </span>
  <b>you </b>
  <span>move my table, and </span>
  <b>you</b>
  <span> bring the drums in. I ain’t doing shit, except putting up with you two teenagers. I can barely say that word without shuddering. Furthermore, I know someone else who can sing, and isn’t susceptible to getting grounded.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen asshole, I know what we need for this band to be successful, and what we don’t need is some mustached old man with a broken tooth fronting our band. Because believe me, I can tell the type you hang out with. One key to success for every band is that either the singer, or the lead guitarist has to be hot enough to bring the chicks in. See the music draws in the dudes, but you need the chicks too for true success. Now, Tommy and I have the capability to draw in the chicks, but the hard truth is no one gives a shit about the bass player, ever. And since no one can see the fucking drummer behind the kit, they don’t cares how he looks, as long as he hits good. Which brings me back to our temporarily grounded singer. That fucker is gonna lure the chicks in, because you sure as hell ain’t gonna be the one!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself, dick. I fuck the same girls that you do,” Mick smirks, grabbing his junk as his walks off. “Lemme know when you’re done redecorating.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The band brainstorming session was actually not bad. They made enough basic progress on a few of the songs, to get excited about they’re true potential. Mick kept up his fiery attitude the entire time. Maybe it was to test the boundaries of the kids to see if they’re breakable. Maybe to keep an upper hand. Maybe because it’s just fun to hurl insults without getting your ass kicked. At the end of the day, Mick even agreed to let Tommy keep his drum kit at his apartment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki return in time for dinner. The mood in the house has changed since the morning. Everything seems to be normal, but for some reason it makes Tommy uneasy. He’s quite sure that his mother stepped in, and told his dad to calm the fuck down. He suspects it’s all a ploy to butter him up for another attempt at enrolling for the Junior ROTC.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After dinner, the pair go up to Tommy’s bedroom. Nikki brought his notebook up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna go through more songs, Nik?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, actually I’m in the mood to write.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You already are. You’re my inspiration. It’s for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?’ Tommy grins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really. I think you’ll dig it. I started writing it at Mick’s while you were putting your drums back together and tuning. Mick played a riff today that I think is perfect for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t want to distract you with music or anything. Maybe I’ll just shower. I’m overdue.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That distracts me,” Nikki grins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy slides up next to Nikki, and kisses him. “Use that as inspiration too,” the drummer smiles, then heads into the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>About 5 minutes later, there’s a light knock on Tommy’s bedroom door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in,” Nikki says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Nicholas. I guess that’s Tommy in the shower,” Mr. Bass says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling these days?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Better. Sometimes my ribs hurt, depending how I sit or sleep, but I think that I’m healing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good to hear. I’m sure that you’ll make a complete recovery. So, we offered you another week here, rent free, and of course that offer still stands. But, my wife tells me you got a job. Is that right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir. I’ll be starting the week after next. Just one hour a day, 5 days a week.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At a liquor store.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. A+ Liquors.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not the most respectable place of employment for someone your age.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sir. But, they’re willing to work with my hours, and I’ll be 18 soon. I’ll be able to work more, and have duties added to my responsibilities.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, responsibility is what I want to talk to you about. I know that we told you that you can continue to stay here after your recovery period, as long as you pay rent. But, due to your legal-aged birthday approaching soon, we can only allow you two more weeks. You’ll pay us rent during those weeks, and it should be plenty of time for you to find another place to live.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. That’s fair, and I thank you for letting me stay here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of thanks, Thanksgiving is next week, and we’ll be going to my sister’s house. It’s not a large house, and the gathering will be kept to just family. I’m sure you’ll understand. Perhaps you have some other family in the area?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes….. I do. I was planning something along those lines anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can come back around 9pm when we return.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. I appreciate everything you and your wife have done for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and I’m sorry about subjecting you to the Junior ROTC presentation this morning. I should have realized beforehand that it wasn’t going to be for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s OK. It’s nice to know that these programs exist for kids who are interested.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, now,” Mr. Bass exhales. “Don’t you and my son stay up too late tonight. It would be nice for Tommy to join us at church tomorrow. He used to come along with us until recently. Seems his interests have shifted. You have a nice night, Nicholas. And get some good rest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Bass closes the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki closes his notebook and holds his head in his hands. Another person who doesn’t want him. And not only that, where’s he gonna go? He’s not going to have enough money saved up for rent by then. It’s either gonna be back to his own house, or the street. All this, not to mention getting his hands on a bass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy comes back to his room about 15 minutes later.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahh, feeling good,” Tommy says, shaking his hair out over Nikki, much in the way that a dog shakes off. “I like getting you wet,” Tommy laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki looks up, trying to smile at Tommy’s joke. But the drummer can see immediately that something is wrong.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened, Nik,” Tommy asks, his face drawing in concern.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing. It’s all good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened? I can tell something is wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s OK. Your dad told me that I’ll only have 2 weeks to find another place to live after next week. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’ll be fine.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? I thought you could stay as long as you paid rent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki shrugs. “I am going to be 18 in about 3 weeks, so that makes sense, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll figure something out,” Tommy exhales. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I guess my dad is on an agenda to straighten me out. I doubt it really has anything to do with you personally.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m used to it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy gets down on the floor with Nikki, and simply hugs him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>No disrespect was meant here against the JROTC (it's a great program) and the military. It's just a known thing IRL that Tommy and his dad heavily disagreed about a military future for himself.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. I Will Survive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nikki nods, and takes one more deep breath, then grins. “I got a bass, Tom. I got a fucking bass.”</p>
<p>“We’re another step closer to our dreams, man,” Tommy says, smiling back, holding his hand out for Nikki’s.<br/>---</p>
<p>Things might be falling into place, or they might be falling apart.</p>
<p>---------------</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Three days later, it’s the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The pair are on their way to school in Tommy’s van, the last day before a short break for the holiday. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I’ve been thinking more and more, that I might have to drop out of school so that I can work more hours. I just really need to make it until Christmas so that I can earn my stereo,” Nikki sighs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. We’re gonna figure things out,” Tommy says, reaching his hand out for Nikki’s; finally resting it on a clean spot on the seat. Tommy cleaned it yesterday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe that I’m going to say this, but I think that I actually might like this school. At least more than any other school I’ve been too. Like, I’m not hated by everyone. And it seems even maybe one or two of my teachers actually see something positive in me. I mean, I know that it’s more or less my fault, the way I’m perceived. But a lot of the way that I get treated is based on a snap judgement from the first time someone looks at me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny, because I feel like a fish in a barrel here. Just an easy target to address someone’s boredom,” Tommy says, as he parks the van on the street. “I just can’t wait to have a few extra days off.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess. C’mon, let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the end of the school day, Nikki is about ready to leave shop class.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Feranna, I would like to see you after class for a few minutes please.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, Mr. Moore,” Nikki replies, approaching the teacher's desk, as the rest of the students file out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been admiring your finished project. It’s about as fine as I’ve ever seen. As a matter of fact, it's such an expertly crafted knife that I’m almost afraid to allow you to take it out of the classroom and into the school hallways.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to do anything with it,” Nikki replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, just for safe measures, it might be best to have it picked up and carried out by an adult. I might have to contact your parents to come pick it up safely, and they can decide whether you can have it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t call them. I made it. It’s my knife. I’m not gonna do anything to anybody. Another student crafted a knife and got to leave with it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That knife couldn’t have even posed danger to a slice of bread. And why not call your parents?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It didn’t look that awful to me. And as for my parents, I just prefer them not to be in my business.” Nikki says, furrowing his brows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I had a feeling that maybe things weren’t so great at home. I have a 6th sense for these things. So, I thought of a little trade off with you in mind. You let me keep the knife, and you can go home with this…” Mr. Moore says, putting the knife down on his desk, and placing a tattered bass case up on his desk from the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Did I hear you right? You want to give me a bass?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a shame, Nikki, that your musical talent is laying to waste. I have a few old basses that I don’t use anymore. One of the keys is broken on this one, but you can get it fixed,” The teacher says opening the case, revealing an old Gibson Thunderbird.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” Nikki exhales, barely able to keep his drool from leaking out all over it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Put it on, Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He takes it out of the case, then slips the strap onto his shoulder, positioning his left and right hands accordingly. He marvels at it for a minute, then looks up and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to say,” Nikki remarks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say anything. I think our deal is fair. And I can give you private lessons so you can get better. Whenever you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr. Moore, but I can’t afford lessons. I just need to practice a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t charge you Nikki. I know when I see something special. You can come over anytime for free private lessons. I can give you a small one right now,” Mr. Moore says, coming behind the teenager. “See, your right hand is too low on the bridge,” the teacher says, placing his hand over Nikki’s to place it further up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hair on the back of the teen's neck bristles. He remembers what Tommy said about this teacher, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Backdoor Moore. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s too close. Nikki can feel him grazing up against him from behind, and there’s something to be felt. He has to think quickly. He needs this bass in the worst way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I like playing low on the bridge. It’s where I’m most comfortable,” Nikki says, trying to not make the tremor in his voice detectable. He doesn’t want to make his discomfort noticeable, otherwise the teacher will take the bass back. He knows now this is all a ploy to get him to Mr. Moore’s house for lessons, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>grooming</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to come over today for your first lesson? I just have a few things to wrap up here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sir. My friend is waiting for me out there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps tomorrow, or the weekend?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Mr. Moore. I think I can do the weekend,” Nikki swallows hard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The teacher backs away. “That will be great, Nikki. I’ll make you a great bass player in no time at all. Let me write my phone number down. Call me anytime. I’ll come pick you up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Nikki says, taking the bass off, and placing it back in the case. He spies his knife on the desk. He wants that too. While the teacher is fiddling around with a pen and paper, Nikki casually reaches for the knife and places it in the guitar case, then shuts it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The teacher looks up, and smiles widely. “Here’s my phone number, Nikki. Let’s get that inner rock star in you to emerge,” he says, handing the paper to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He slips it into his pocket, and takes the case by the handle. The teacher wraps his arm around his shoulder to walk him to the door of the classroom. Pulling him firmly in towards him, squeezing his shoulder. The hand feels slimy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you in a few days, son. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir. Thank you, and you too,” Nikki says, with a fake smile, wiggling free. He walks quickly down the hallway to get away. Once he rounds the corner, he runs the rest of the way to the front door, finding Tommy lingering on the outdoor pavilion, waiting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nik… uh, what’s that?” Tommy asks, seeing the guitar case in Nikki’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you in a minute. Come on, we need to get to the van fast.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you steal it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, let’s just go,” Nikki says, running ahead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They make it to the van. Nikki puts the bass in the back. “Let’s get out of here. Just drive.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy pulls away from the curb and drives off. “Are you OK? What happened? Is that a bass?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki turns around to look behind them to make sure that they’re not being followed. They’re not. He sinks into the front seat in relief and blows out a long exhale. “This is my last day in that school.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?! Why? What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were right about that shop teacher.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he do something to you? Are you OK?” Tommy says, a concerned look on his face, as he stares more at Nikki than the road.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he didn’t do anything, and I’m fine. I just know that what you said is true. He gave me that bass,” Nikki says, motioning to it in the back with his thumb. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He just gave you a bass?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in exchange for a knife that I made in class. Then he offered to give me private lessons. I just got creeped out. He got a little too close to me,” Nikki tells, releasing a shiver. “And as you know, I need this bass in the worst way. I had to pretend to go along with him. I said that I’d come over this weekend for lessons," Nikki rambles. "I had to be able to leave with the bass, so I just played along. But there’s no way I’m actually going over there,” he affirms, reaching into his pocket for the phone number. He crumbles it up and throws out the window of the moving van. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki let's out another long exhale, sinking into the seat; feeling some relief as they drive further away from the school. “I took my knife back too. I slipped it inside the case. I just needed to get the hell out of there with the bass before he noticed the missing knife. I’m not going back. I can’t go back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Think he’ll come after you? Like call your house? Or come after you for the bass?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why I can’t go back. I need this fucking bass. He can call my house, but I won’t be there. The school will start calling my house anyway to try to track me down. Shit, Tom. I’m like on the run now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t do anything wrong, Nik. He gave it to you. Plus, you know what he was planning to do to you. He knows it too. He’s just gonna chalk this up as a loss, and move on to the next one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki nods, and takes one more deep breath, then grins. “I got a bass, Tom. I got a fucking bass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re another step closer to our dreams, man,” Tommy says, smiling back, holding his hand out for Nikki’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki takes hold, and shuts his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he speaks up again. “I don’t know why I thought that anyone in that school actually thought that I was any good. Most are just out for their own gain. I feel really gullible that I believed that someone saw something special in me.” A tear rolls down Nikki’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is only a few blocks from home, but pulls the van over to the curb, putting it in park. “I see it, Nikki. You are special.” Tommy says, moving closer to lean on his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I going to do? I can’t go back to school. I’ll have to give the bass back. Besides, I need to start working so that I can pay rent. My mom is going to find out that I’m not going. I won’t get my stereo. I tried so hard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault, Nikki. Maybe your grandparents would understand why you’re dropping out. I mean you can’t live at home with your mom, you need to pay rent, and now you have a teacher who is putting smooth moves on you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still feel like a failure. Like, there has to be a reason why I get shit on so much. I try, and I still can’t make it work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck school. I mean look what’s happening with our band. It’s coming together, and it’s mostly you getting us there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We haven’t even gotten all four of us together yet,” Nikki shakes his head. “I haven’t done shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But we will get together…. really soon. Then everything will just start to fall into place. We should see if Mick is free tonight or tomorrow because you got the bass now. Come on, the band is your dream. It’s our dream.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. We’ll call Mick,” Nikki says, with a brave smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy cradles Nikki in his arms, as the radio quietly plays “I Love You” by Climax Blues Band.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You came along from far away and found me here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was playin’ around, feeling down, hittin’ the beer</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You picked me up from off the floor and gave me a smile</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You said, you’re much too young, your life ain’t begun, let’s walk for awhile.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As my head was spinnin’ ‘round</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I gazed into your eyes</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And thought, ooh I want you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you babe for being a friend</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And shinin’ your light in my life </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Cause ooh I need you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Since then I never looked back</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s almost like livin’ a dream </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ooh I got you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If ever a man had it all</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It would have to be me</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And ooh I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy wants to say it, but he just let’s the radio speak, just whispering the last verse. Nikki nestles himself further into Tommy’s arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> -----------------------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Thanksgiving morning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, be ready to leave by 12,” Mrs. Bass says, knocking on his bedroom door, then cracking it open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK, mom. How long we gotta be there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re usually there until around 8. Plenty of time to eat dinner, have pie and coffee, and spend time with family.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I drive separately, and leave earlier?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this about Nikki?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods. “He has no one to be with.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Voula comes in and hugs Tommy, then kisses his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that’s hard. It’s just one day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t understand why he couldn’t come. Athena brought a friend last year. And one of our cousins brought a girlfriend another year. I know it’s because dad doesn’t like Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that he’s just afraid that he’ll be perceived wrongly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because he chooses to look and dress a certain way and everyone thinks that he’s trouble and on drugs. He’s been nothing but polite and respectful since he’s been here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, sweetheart. But, this is your father’s decision and we need to accept it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No one should have to be alone. That’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll see him later.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s he going to eat for dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, he’s almost 18 years old. There’s a certain point where everyone needs to figure some things out for themselves. He’s resourceful. He’ll get through.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom, it’s not about finding a way to get through a lonely day, it’s about human decency. You know, I can’t stand when I hear adults talk about how my generation is selfish and ruined, while we’re the ones who see beyond the stereotypes. We think that it’s time to update the world and it’s old-fashioned ways of thinking and behaving. But no, let’s all just shut up and do what the man of the house says, even when it’s wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thomas! Don’t you dare categorize your father as someone who doesn’t understand human decency and not understanding today’s youth. He’s never said a thing about your hair and earrings, the music you listen to, or staying out late on the weekends. Plus, he did allow your friend to stay here. He’s getting a full month, Tommy. Remember your other friend, Vincent, who slept in your van for a week? Dad didn’t freak out when we found out. As a matter of fact, he would have preferred that you just asked us if he could stay inside the house.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, mom. I know you and dad have been fair and kind. I guess it just hurts that Nikki doesn’t have a family to be with today, and that dad won’t let him come with us because he thinks that Nikki is doing drugs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t he?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s heart pumps faster, and a lump forms in his throat. “He’s in pain, mom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know he is, and I also know that if he wasn’t in pain, there would still be drugs. Sometimes your generation isn’t so wise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He just wants to feel better, and get through the day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So did I, when I was prescribed pills to </span>
  <em>
    <span>just get through the day</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They did me no good, Tommy. It’s a good thing that your father noticed that I wasn’t behaving properly, or maybe you and your sister would have the dependability that you look for in me. Your dad and I know more about the things that you and Athena and your friends are up to and into, than you think we do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not a bad person though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a lovely person, Tommy. And I know that you have a special bond with him. But smarter choices still need to be made, or one day, you and Nikki are going to be finding yourselves paying the price. It’s basic commonsense. Stay away from drugs, stay in school, use protection, keep good company, respect your elders.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, mom,” Tommy says, hanging his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pick your head up, love. Things will be OK. Get yourself ready. Go find out what Nikki is doing. Let me know. We can drop him off somewhere, if needed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. Thanks, mom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy knows that some of his mom’s points are valid, but it still doesn’t feel right, because it’s not right. He finishes getting dressed, and goes down to Nikki’s room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Nik,” Tommy says, opening the door and shutting it behind him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Nikki smiles, looking up from his notebook.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you going to do today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be good. I called Mick. He’s gonna pick me up at the corner store at 12:30.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t he have family?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki shrugs. I think they’re in northern Cali or something. All I know is that he’ll be home. We’ll work on music.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Tommy smiles. “That sounds cool. To be honest, I’d rather do that, than be with my family.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Enjoy your family, Tommy. Believe me, if I had the opportunity, I would be with family.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I’m sorry. But, I still rather be with you. Can’t help that I feel that way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I want to be with you,” Nikki says, putting his notebook down, pulling Tommy in for a kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy pulls away after a minute. “When are your ribs gonna heal?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not worried about them, as much as you are. I’m game, any time you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I just worry. I don’t want you to have to keep taking stuff for pain.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m always gonna have pain. It’s not always physical.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy sighs, thinking about what his mother said about making better choices. He already knows that Nikki is locked into the world of drugs, and he, himself, feels the lure towards them, often. He knows that it’s only a matter of time before he falls prey to them regularly. But it’s not such a big deal. All of the kids do it. No one is dying. It’s just the way things are. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. Just stay away from that strong shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t have it anymore. You took my last one,” Nikki says popping his brows up, and dusting his hands off, then holding them out to show that they’re clean, as mock proof.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you got it once. I know you can get it again. Just saying.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only thing I’m gonna be puttin’ in myself today is the feast that Mick is preparing for us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feast? Mick cooks?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he said it’s his tradition, at least since last year. Swanson Turkey pot pie, cranberry from the can, and Hostess Apple Pies for dessert. Oh and maybe a little spirits to top off the evening,” Nikki laughs, actually wishing he could have a real meal with his family. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s sure that his mother will be going over to her sister’s house. Nikki wouldn’t mind going. He’d talk to his uncle about music, and freak his cousins out. That never gets boring. There will be football on their color TV afterwards. But he can’t. He’s just not ready to fake his way through a family dinner with his mother. It’s too soon. He’s still healing. She’ll start in with her sly comments, that no one else would perceive as insulting, but Nikki will know. He knows her ways all too well. He’ll get angry. It will all end badly. He just can’t go.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good, Nik. I’ll miss you, though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Same.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They start to make out again, until they hear footsteps coming towards the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Tommy’s mom. “Five minutes. Nikki, do you need a ride somewhere?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, thank you. I have a friend picking me up at the corner store soon. He’s making dinner for us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad, Nikki. We’ll see you later this evening. We should be home no later than 9pm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She leaves, Tommy and Nikki kiss each other goodbye, and go on their separate ways.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Tommy’s parents and sister are out Christmas shopping. And it’s Vince’s first day of freedom since being grounded for having the party.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I just got off the phone with Vince. We’re gonna pick him up around 4, and then go over to Mick’s place,” Tommy says, coming downstairs. Nikki is sitting on the couch in sweatpants in the living room with his notebook.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He couldn’t do any earlier than 4?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s his first day out. He wants to hook up with some girls first.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine…. I guess I understand that for today, but going forward, I don’t want these broads taking priority over band practice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK, but seriously, Nikki. Don’t be too much of a dick on the first day. Piss him off, and he’s gone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll behave. I just wanna get this going. Mick and I finished the song I was working on.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The one you wrote for me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I see it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki flips the pages in his notebook. “Mick pulled out a few fuckin’ cool riffs for this. I think you might even be able to work your cowbell in somewhere. It’s like a little poppy, punk tune, with some gritty guitar work and some funky bass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I see the lyrics?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Nikki says, handing the notebook over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stick to Your Guns”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Get a grip on yourself</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Get in shape for tonight</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take a look at yourself or your dreams</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re losing sight</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It just ain’t right</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey man look at me I’m screaming</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you watching me bleed, are you believin’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You gotta stick to your guns</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s right for you ain’t right for everyone</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ain’t right for everyone</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Too much too soon, too much for you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyday has a hero, don’t it though</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t let it go</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You gotta fight, it just ain’t right</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey man look at me I’m screaming</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you watching the green, are you believin’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You gotta stick to your guns</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s right for you, ain’t right for everyone</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy reads the lyrics, and then looks back up at Nikki. “I get the feeling that you kinda know me by now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t let others tell you what to do, or what to be. Don’t let them squash your dreams. It’s not right, and it’s only gonna break your spirit. And this world is a better place with Tommy Lee Bass’s spirit. Like no one else I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy places the notebook on the table, and goes headlong into Nikki on the couch, connecting with his lips. He comes up for air. “How come no one else sees me like you do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just be yourself, and they will.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy stares into Nikki’s eyes, as he lies on top of him. “Come on, let’s go out early, and check out the back of my van again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you’re talking,” Nikki smiles. “Gimme five minutes to get ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki lie on the mattress, naked under the ratty blanket, in the back of the chilly van which is parked in the corner of a nondescript parking lot. Aerosmith plays in the background on the radio.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did it take me so long to get on board with this?” Tommy marvels, staring up at the spent, droopy, smoke-stained material hanging down from the ceiling of his van.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re actually younger than I was when I did it for the first time. Just earlier this year. When I was still in Seattle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Not even close. Wasn’t anyone special or beneficial to me. Just me being used, even though it did feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh," Tommy replies, pursing his lips. "Was he attractive?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He was OK. I wouldn’t have let it happen if he was a dog, but it wasn’t really a mutually sought after thing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not against your will, was it?” Tommy asks, concerned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not against my will. But they took advantage of my desperation for attention and my desire for things that feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, Tom,” Nikki laughs. “I’ve gotten myself into some fucked up situations. It was a husband and wife team. I was fucking the wife. I didn’t know she was married. Before I knew it, he was involved too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like older people?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, they were older than me, but still young and stupidly married, I guess. I’m sure they won’t last through the ages. Tib and Bett. Short for Elizabeth. I don’t know about Tib. Then I moved here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tiberius,” Tommy says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm…. So you </span>
  <b>do</b>
  <span> know a little Roman ancient history, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, my friend once had a dog named Tiberius,” Tommy laughs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t fucked by no dog,” Nikki grins, playfully getting himself back on top of Tommy. He quiets himself, and takes Tommy’s face in his hands. “You’re the only one I want like this,” Nikki says, leaning in to kiss the drummer softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? I have to admit that I was a little jealous of the time you spent with Mick, alone. I guess I let my mind wander in places that it shouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t get like that. Mick’s a pretty cool guy and all, but I know what I got, and I know what I want. Told you, you’re my baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What about girls?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re still trying to dig into what you think I am, aren’t you?’</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Nikki. You told me you don’t like labels and being pigeon holed. I guess I just want to know what to expect before I get in too deep, although I fear that I might be there already.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby, whatever I do with the girls, it’s really nothing, OK? I just like feeling good. Want me to lay off?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When you decide, let me know,” Nikki replies. Preferring Tommy speak his mind, rather than folding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. I mean, I don’t feel that I have a right to tell you what to do. But I’d like it a lot more if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>laid</span>
  </em>
  <span> off the </span>
  <em>
    <span>lays</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ladies.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guess?” Nikki shakes his head, stroking Tommy’s hair away from his forehead. “Stick to your guns, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I just….. OK, um…. I’d like it if you were just with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See, that wasn’t hard to say, was it? And I’ll do my best. I promise,” Nikki says, leaning in to kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a piece of work. You insist I speak up for what I want, knowing that you weren’t going to fully commit to just me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said that I’ll do my best, and I want you to get used to sticking up for yourself. Don’t back down.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. Then I’m going to tell you not to fuck girls, or I’ll dump your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll just do it on the sly then, and I bet you won’t dump my ass,” Nikki says, turning around on his knees to flaunt his ass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy scrambles to his knees quickly to pounce on Nikki, tackling him to the mattress. “Stop fucking girls. And let me fuck you, Nikki,” Tommy breathes into his ear. “I want your ass. It’s mine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you’re speaking my language,” Nikki says, submitting under Tommy’s hands. “Fuck me, Tom. And fuck me hard. Teach me a lesson I’ll never forget about not fucking around with girls. Bet you can change my mind with the right attitude.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A crafty smile spreads across Tommy’s face, as he picks up the lube. “I want you to ride me, Nikki.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yahoo, baby,” Nikki says, with a sassy tongue in cheek click.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy and Nikki sit in the back of the van smoking, both still naked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we should get dressed. It’s getting close to 4. We gotta get Vince,” Tommy says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, we gotta get rollin’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, I guess he’ll have to sit back here. Kinda feel badly after we just had sex all over this mattress.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fuck cares? You wanna live a rock n’ roll lifestyle, cum stained mattresses come with the territory, T… can I call you that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy nods yes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T, this is just the beginning. We’re going to make it, and we’re gonna live a fucking raunchy, debauched, spoiled-ass lifestyle; just like all those other motherfuckers who’ve already made it. But we’re gonna do it even better, faster, louder and cruder.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And messier,” Tommy says, trying to pull the blanket over the splotchy mattress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely messier. Come on, let’s go get our singer,” Nikki says, slipping his shirt back on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18 - Black Widow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"That means that I’m growing on you, right?” Nikki says, grinning. </p>
<p>“Yeah, growing on me like a big fat, black-haired mole on my ass," Mick replies.</p>
<p>The band is coming together... kind of.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy pulls up to Vince’s house. “Things appear a lot calmer than last time we were here,” he says, debating in his head whether he should honk or go knock on the door.</p>
<p>“Just goes to show that this cat knows how to party,” Nikki says, looking towards the front door. “Blow the fucking horn.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I should go knock instead. His parents might get pissed with some shit van honking for their son the first day he’s off the hook.”</p>
<p>Nikki reaches in front of Tommy, and presses on the horn.</p>
<p>“OK, then, I guess I won’t get out.”</p>
<p>Finally, Vince comes out the front door and towards the van. He looks in the front seat and sees someone there already, so he slides open the back door. “Where’s the fucking seat?” Vince barks. “I figured you would have put it back in.”</p>
<p>“Right there, mate,” the bassist says, turning around, gesturing towards the mattress. “I’m Nikki.”</p>
<p>“I know who you are. You’re that motherfucker who dished it out at the Whisky a few weeks ago, right?" Vince asks, as he slides the door shut, watching where he sits. He feels disgusted knowing that he once slept on this mattress. It’s gotten worse.</p>
<p>“Something like that,” Nikki smiles, turning back around.</p>
<p>“I got rid of the seat, Vin,” Tommy says. “My dad said he didn’t want it taking up room in the garage.”</p>
<p>“Well you should have put it the fuck back in the van, dickwad.”</p>
<p>“I need the space. That’s my boudoir,” Tommy snickers.</p>
<p>”Sick…,” Vince says with a shiver. “Anyway, what the fuck did happen to your face? I heard like 3 or 4 different versions,” he asks.</p>
<p>“Wanna know the gory details?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking.”</p>
<p>“My mother’s boyfriend beat the shit out of me because he’s a psycho dickhead and she’s a useless bitch,” Nikki says.</p>
<p>“What? What happened at the Whisky then?”</p>
<p>“Nothing. I don’t know how that rumor started…. Listen, I only told you that, not so you can go tell every asswipe in the school the truth, but so we start off on the right foot. I’m serious about the intent and direction of this band. This ain’t no hobby, trial run, or hoping on a wing and prayer type band. We’re making it to the top, and there’s no other possible outcome,” Nikki spouts, blowing smoke out. “You still in? Because it’s gonna start pulling you away from so much other shit. If you do stuff like sports, tuba lessons, Boy Scouts, cake decorating… you can kiss all that shit goodbye. And roach stomp your other band. This is the real deal.”</p>
<p>“I hear you. I mean, I gotta hear what you got first. I need to make sure that it’s stuff that I want to sing. And no worries about my work ethic. My friends and I busted our balls to start my band. I haven’t told them yet… about this new venture. But if I like what you got, I will.”</p>
<p>“Fair enough.”</p>
<p>-----------------------------</p>
<p>The trio arrive at Mick’s apartment. They gear up, and show the singer what they got. Vince tries a few songs. It’s not perfect at all, but all are in agreement that they have something there, and they’ll find a way to pull it together.</p>
<p>Vince liked the songs well enough, and vowed to let his other band know that they’re finished. </p>
<p>They sit around smoking and munching on snacks. “Does this band have a name?” Vince asks.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Tommy says.</p>
<p>“Sure we do. Mick and the Adolescent Assholes. Or Mick and the Juvenile Jerk-Offs. Maybe Mick and the Prepubescent Pricks,” the snarly guitarist says, while gulping down a massive swig of flavored vodka.</p>
<p>“I’m thinking maybe we’d be better as a power trio,” Nikki suggests. “Vince… you’ve hit guitar, right?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I could fill the spot, <em>and</em> sing,” Vince says, popping his brows towards Mick, grabbing his bottle to take a slug.</p>
<p>“You’re all gonna suck, and you ain’t got no one to buy this shit for you,” Mick says, snatching the bottle back from Vince.</p>
<p>“Damn, he’s right,” Vince says.</p>
<p>“Speaking of liquor, we gotta go soon. I start my job tonight at 9,” Nikki shares.</p>
<p>“What? Male prostitute?” Mick asks.</p>
<p>“Liquor store. And give me a few days, and I’ll find a clean way to steal the shit. How ‘bout that, Mick,” Nikki says, reaching for the bottle.</p>
<p>“Damn, that’s right, Nik. We do have to leave in a few to drop Vince off, and then get you there,” Tommy says. “And you know, I was just thinking. How about The Cinners for a name?”</p>
<p>“Too common sounding,” Nikki says, pursing his lips.</p>
<p>“No, with a C, not an S. I was just thinking that all 4 of us here have fucked Cindy,” Tommy says, laughing himself into a snort.</p>
<p>“Shit man, what are the odds of that,” Vince says.</p>
<p>“Odds are good. Hottest tramp around,” Mick says. “And her sister is two for four.”</p>
<p>“Make that three for four,” Vince says.</p>
<p>“Oh, you sly dog,” Mick says.</p>
<p>“Tommy, you gotta complete the circuit,” Vince says, with a smirk.</p>
<p>Tommy starts to stutter without actually saying anything.</p>
<p>“He’s good,” Nikki says, hooking his elbow around Tommy’s neck, in a mock choke hold. “This band is going to corrupt him enough…. Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to get fired my first night for being late. Let’s get together Tuesday. Does that work? Fuck homework if you got it, or just get it done early.”</p>
<p>“How are you gonna do it, Nikki, between practice and working?” Vince asks.</p>
<p>“I dropped out,” Nikki smiles broadly. </p>
<p>-----------------------------</p>
<p>It’s Monday morning.</p>
<p>Tommy and Nikki agreed last night that Nikki would leave with Tommy in the morning for school. His parents don’t know that Nikki has chosen to drop out. </p>
<p>“Whatcha gonna do while I’m in school?” Tommy asks.</p>
<p>“I got my bass, guitar and notebook. I’ll probably work on some music. I think that I might take a walk to the liquor store and see if I can get some daytime hours.”</p>
<p>“Want me to leave my keys?” Tommy asks.</p>
<p>“Only if you want to. I can walk wherever.”</p>
<p>“You can drive, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I learned to drive years ago on my grandparents’ farm. I drove the tractor and trucks all over the place. I got a learner’s permit in Washington, but I never obtained a license. I guess I’ll do it here someday. And don’t you remember, I drove you home once.”</p>
<p>“I remember nothing from that night,” Tommy laughs. “You want ‘em?” Tommy says, holding the keys out.</p>
<p>“Not today, OK. I’m good. I’ll see later.”</p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p>It’s now Thursday, and Nikki and Tommy have kept up the charade of the two of them leaving for school together each morning. What Nikki doesn’t know, although he suspected would happen at some point, was that truancy officers were being dispatched to Nikki’s home. Only his mother has been at work, so they have yet to be in contact with her. Deana doesn't have an answering machine for messages. So, an officer will be sent to the home tonight.</p>
<p>“Are you Mrs. Richards?” the officer asks, as Deana opens the front door.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m Ms. Richards. Is something wrong?” the uneasy mother asks, more scared than anything. She’s afraid the officer is there to tell her that something bad happened to Nikki.</p>
<p>“Is your son, Nicholas Feranna?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Is he alright?” she asks, her heart pounding, her head going light.</p>
<p>“I’m a truancy officer. Your son has been absent from school for 4 days, and we haven’t been able to locate him. Are you aware of his absences.”</p>
<p>Deana feels a sense of relief to hear that this is only about school, instead of news that something has happened to Nikki. Once she can breathe again, she immediately feels anger creeping in. How dare he embarrass her like this.</p>
<p>“May I come in, ma’am. I’d like to check the premises, if that’s OK.”</p>
<p>Of course,” she says, opening the door further to allow the officer to come in. “He’s not here though. He hasn’t been here in over two weeks. May I get you something? Some iced tea or coffee?”</p>
<p>“A cup of coffee would be very nice, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Please, call me Deana.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>She disappears into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Uh ma’am. Uh Denna…. Would you mind if I check your son’s bedroom?”</p>
<p>“Upstairs. First door on the left.”</p>
<p>The officer goes up and checks for Nikki in the bedroom. He briefly looks in the other rooms, as well, then comes back downstairs. He sees Deana sitting on the couch, a cup of coffee before her, and another for him.</p>
<p>“Please, take a seat, officer.”</p>
<p>“You can call me Norm.”</p>
<p>“Well, Norm, my Nikki is such a bright and beautiful child, but he’s chosen to pursue things catered to his own liking. He’s told me that he wants to drop out of school. A mother can only do so much. The good lord knows how hard I’ve tried. I do my very best as a hard-working single mother,” Deana says, lighting up a cigarette, nervously twitching her foot.</p>
<p>“Nicholas would be of legal age to drop out of school without parental consent, however he has not notified the school. At this juncture it appears that we have an unaccounted for minor on our hands,” the officer says. “Do you have any idea where your son is?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. He left with another kid.”</p>
<p>“Do you know that child’s name?”</p>
<p>“I don’t remember. Bobby, or something like that,” Deana says, blowing a stream of smoke out.</p>
<p>“Do you know where Bobby lives?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Is this going to get me in trouble?” Deana asks, her foot twitching even more rapidly. “You see, that boy he left with… he was the homosexual type. Long hair and earrings. He lured my son away. I couldn’t stop it. They’re both much bigger than my petite frame.”</p>
<p>“Did your son tell you where he was going, or why he was leaving?”</p>
<p>“No, I can only assume to run off with that homosexual boy. It’s not something that I would allow in my home. Can you understand that, officer?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am. I certainly can.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t raise Nicholas like that. I did my best, he was a very good little boy. But when he started growing into his own, he became a little too much for a hard-working <em>single</em> mother to handle,” Deana spouts, forcing out crocodile tears. “His father was a cruel man, and left us with nothing. Why, without a father figure around, you can see how my son could take on homosexual traits.”</p>
<p>“Here’s a handkerchief, ma’am,”  Norm offers, pulling one from his pocket. “Why, a young pretty mother like you, having to deal with such an ornery son. Kids these days don’t have respect like they used to,” the officer says, patting Deana’s hand, which is resting on her lap, as she dabs non-existent tears with the other hand.</p>
<p>“I know, officer. I’m sorry that I don’t have any further information. I’ve been sick with worry, wondering if my Nicholas is being corrupted. Although I didn’t approve of what he’s been doing, I didn’t kick him out. He and that other boy left together.”</p>
<p>“Miss, how long ago has it been since you’ve seen Nicholas?”</p>
<p>“About 2 weeks, maybe 3,” Deana says, taking the last inhale on the cigarette, then extinguishing it in a nearby ashtray.</p>
<p>“He’s only been absent since Monday. So wherever he’s been staying, he remained in school until recently.”</p>
<p>“I know he’s been wanting to drop out. I’ve tried to tell him how important his studies are, but he chooses not to listen to me.”</p>
<p>“As I said before ma’am, he’s at a legal age to drop out. But there’s that problem in that he’s a minor and his whereabouts are unknown. Suppose something happened to him?”</p>
<p>Deana unfolds the handkerchief and starts crying into it. “Can I be held responsible? Please, I tried my very best. He left on his own with that other vile boy. I couldn’t stop him. They’re bigger than me. And furthermore, my Nikki will be 18 in just two very short weeks anyway. He’s so tall, and can barely be considered a minor.”</p>
<p>“Miss, I didn’t mean to scare you. It just sounds as if he’s gone to do his own thing. I’m so sorry for your troubles. Don’t worry, Deana, there won’t be any fines or trouble. I just need to write up a report explaining the circumstances. If there’s something I can do, I’d be more than obliged to--”</p>
<p>“Officer, I’m just a lonely mother,” she says, leaning on the officer’s shoulder. </p>
<p>He leans into her, and wraps an arm around her shoulder.</p>
<p>“I’ve tried to find a nice stable man to have around the house. A role-model for Nicholas, but good men are so hard to come by.”</p>
<p>“Well, miss, perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places. A pretty lady like you should have no problem finding a man to be in your life.”</p>
<p>“Do you think so?” Deana sniffs, looking into the officer’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” the officer says, suddenly connecting with her lips.</p>
<p>20 minutes later, Deana walks the disheveled officer to the door.</p>
<p>“Well, thank you for that information, Deana. We will be sure to check everything out.”</p>
<p>“My pleasure, Norm,” Nikki’s mom smiles, straightening the man’s collar. “Please be sure to stop by the house for updates. I do hope this was your last case of the evening.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am. Good night.”</p>
<p>----------------------------------</p>
<p>It’s Friday (Dec. 1st), after school.</p>
<p>Nikki and Tommy are getting ready to head over to Mick’s apartment.</p>
<p>“Can we stop at the liquor store on the way, so that I can get my pay for the week? I owe your dad rent by tomorrow. I should have enough,” Nikki says, counting what he already has in his wallet.</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” Tommy says.</p>
<p>“I can make rent this week, but next week’s rent is dicey. The store only allowed me a couple extra hours on Wednesdays, until I turn 18. They just don’t need me until I can do other duties, like the register. And the bigger problem is finding somewhere else to live.”</p>
<p>“I know, Nik. I’ve been trying to think of something. Would you ever consider going home again?”</p>
<p>“No. I think that I’d rather be out on the street.”</p>
<p>“What about just to sleep and shower? Like maybe you can hang at Mick’s during the day, and you’ll be at work too. That way, you can mostly avoid your mom.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. You really think that I should go back there?”</p>
<p>“No. I’d actually be worried. I’m just worried about the other options too,” Tommy sighs.</p>
<p>“I’ll see. It gets cold at night, so I probably won’t last outside.”</p>
<p>“Come on, Nik. You’re not going to live outside. I’d give you my van before I let that happen. Besides, as much as my dad has been a dick lately, I can guarantee that he's not gonna turn you out on the street.”</p>
<p>Nikki looks Tommy in the eyes. “I’m not worried.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you are. Come on, let’s get to practice.</p>
<p>----------------------------</p>
<p>They all arrive at Mick’s place. Vince started driving himself. It's more convenient for him, plus the back of the van... ew.</p>
<p>Earlier in the week, a name for the band was decided upon, Motley Crue. It was a suggestion from Mick. Both Nikki and Vince had input in altering the spelling and adding umlauts over the o and u.</p>
<p>“Alright guys, let’s run through our 3 finished songs, and then start on a new one. We need to get about 4 or 5 more songs completed, and then we can think about playing shows. We can always throw a few easy covers in. Then I think that we need to make a list of other things that we need to do, like recording some demos, making band posters, ideas for stage clothes, show components, and eventually getting ourselves into clubs,” Nikki says, running his hands through his hair as he talks.</p>
<p>“Nikki, you seem out of it,” Mick observes.</p>
<p>Vince pulls a vial of cocaine from his pocket and hands it to Nikki, who takes it from him with a smirk. Tommy bites his lip. He kinda wants some too, but refrains because Nikki doesn’t seem to be slowing down on drugs. If anything, he’s amping up on the usage of them. Tommy doesn’t want to make it seem like he approves. </p>
<p>“Tommy?” Vince asks. He flashes the vial at him, after Nikki tapped some out on his finger and snorted it.</p>
<p>“I’m good.”</p>
<p>“Mick?” Vince asks.</p>
<p>He just shakes his head in disapproval. “I got my bottle. Don’t need that shit. Neither do you.”</p>
<p>“Little pick-me-up, man. You just said that Nikki looks out of it,” Vince says, tucking it back in.</p>
<p>“I’m good. I’ve just been lacking a little sleep lately,” Nikki says.</p>
<p>“What’s the look for, Tom? Everything OK with you kids?” Mick says, seeing a look of concern on his face.</p>
<p>“In a week, Nikki doesn’t have a place to live,” Tommy blurts out.</p>
<p>“Tom,” Nikki says, with a nasty glare.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s true, and it’s what’s been keeping you up at night, tossing and turning.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you say so, dipshit. You can crash here.”</p>
<p>“Look Mick, money is tight. I’ll be in better shape once I pick up more hours. I just don’t have much right now, and I don’t want to impose.”</p>
<p>“The three of you have already imposed. Did the words ‘<em>Let’s practice at my apartment’</em> ever leave my lips? No, yet here you all are. I don’t like it, but I don’t want to see our fucking songwriter sleeping on a park bench. Been there myself for a few weeks…. wasn’t fun.”</p>
<p>“You won’t fit on that loveseat, Nikki,” Vince points out, then looks at Mick.</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you looking at me for?! He’s not getting in my fucking bed. Fuck you! Go drag a filthy mattress in, and put it in that corner where the chair is.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure, Mick, I--” Nikki says, getting cut off.</p>
<p>“Shut it, Nikki, before I change my mind! And give me my fucking bottle! Bloody hell, what am I doing?” Mick screeches, guzzling down about a triple shot.</p>
<p>“I guess it’s settled then. That means that I’m growing on you, right?” Nikki says, grinning. “I don’t have a lot of stuff. My guitar and bass, and some clothes and shit.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, growing on me like a big fat, black-haired mole on my ass. Drop your clothes in the closet. I only have 2 pairs of pants, so I got closet space.”</p>
<p>“That’s sick, man,” Vince says, with a look of disgust.</p>
<p>“Fuck you, Beau Brummel. These pants are molded perfectly to my form, and the only way that happens is to wear them constantly.”</p>
<p>“Molded is right,” Vince retorts.</p>
<p>“Alright! Enough!” Nikki snaps. “Thank you, Mick. And the pants thing <b>is</b> gross. Now let’s get going.”</p>
<p>-------------------</p>
<p>Sunday - </p>
<p>“T, I think that I should probably stop by my house and get the rest of my stuff, plus my mattress.”</p>
<p>“Today?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. It’s been like three weeks since I’ve seen my mom. I told her that I’d check in.”</p>
<p>“OK. We can use my van.”</p>
<p>They take the ride over about an hour later, after sex in Tommy’s room, while the rest of his family was at church.</p>
<p>“My mom’s car is here,” Nikki says, as Tommy pulls in behind it. “Lemme go in alone. I’ll come get you if I need you. Or if things heat up, I’ll come out. I don’t think they will.”</p>
<p>“OK. I’ll be here,” Tommy says, squeezing Nikki’s hand.</p>
<p>Nikki goes up to the door and knocks, unsure whether he has the right to just walk in. Deana opens the door.</p>
<p>“Nikki…. come in,” Deana says, feeling a mixture of relief and provocation.</p>
<p>“Hi mom. I came to take some more of my things.”</p>
<p>“Where have you been?”</p>
<p>“With a friend.”</p>
<p>“Your gay friend?”</p>
<p>“Does it matter?” Nikki says with some aggression.</p>
<p>“Why are you doing that? I didn’t raise you to be like this.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t raise me at all, mother,” Nikki says, taking a step upstairs.</p>
<p>“I know that you’re not in school anymore,” Deana says.</p>
<p>“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. I need to work.”</p>
<p>“I never kicked you out.”</p>
<p>“You made it impossible for me to stay here.”</p>
<p>“Well, just so you know, I already informed Nona and Tom that you dropped out.”</p>
<p>Nikki’s spirits sink… the stereo. “That wasn’t your place to tell them. That was something between them and me.”</p>
<p>“Does it matter who told them, or were you planning on lying to your grandparents about being in school?”</p>
<p>“Mind your own business. I had valid reasons to drop out. It’s not what you think,” Nikki says, before going up to his room. He slams the door upon getting there.</p>
<p>He’s feeling emotional… about seeing his mother, the stereo, and being back in his bedroom. Nikki looks around, and realizes that he can’t take all of this. There’s the rest of his clothes; mainly the ones in the dirty clothes pile. Some odds and ends, like photographs, his camera, some older notebooks, and his record albums. He walks around, deciding what to take, when there’s a knock on his door.</p>
<p>“It’s unlocked,” Nikki says.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to go,” Deana says, quietly.</p>
<p>“I gotta place to stay, mom.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t like being alone here, Nikki.”</p>
<p>“Neither do I,” Nikki replies, hastily folding dirty clothes to pack in his duffle bag.</p>
<p>“I’m thinking of going back home then,” Deana reveals.</p>
<p>“You’re leaving California?”</p>
<p>“I’ll go back home to Nona and Tom. Then maybe take Ceci back to Seattle with me. I can have my old job back.”</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with here?”</p>
<p>“I had a falling out with my sister on Thanksgiving. Makes my job a rocky place to be, and you’ve pretty much embarrassed me in regard to the school. I’m being looked at as a mother who can’t control her son.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need to be controlled, mom. I just wanted to be loved and respected.”</p>
<p>“You have to earn respect, and that’s mighty difficult when you drop out of school and hang around with homosexuals.”</p>
<p>“You’ve never respected me or loved me, so mind your own business about who I hang out with.”</p>
<p>“He’s corrupting you, Nikki.”</p>
<p>“You’re the one who’s been corrupting me. Just get out, so I can finish,” Nikki says, nudging his mother out the door, and shutting it behind her.</p>
<p>Nikki goes back to packing; finishing with his clothes. Then pacing around again to decide what else to take. Now that he knows that his mother might move away, it hits him that this is it. He’ll never live at home again. He’ll never have a bedroom to come home to; where his things will be. He wonders whether she’ll leave his things here, pack them, or throw them out. He looks around again, and it all hits him hard. He breaks down crying.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, he collects himself enough to get back to the task before him, aware that Tommy is waiting outside, and is most likely worried. Nikki gets up from his bed and looks at what’s left of his childhood. There’s not a lot; it’s been lost, destroyed, or tainted. He picks up a little trophy with his name engraved on the plaque. It was for 1st place in a 3rd grade spelling bee. He puts it back down. It’s not coming with him. There some unique rocks and a knot of wood; things that he discovered outdoors with his grandfather. He leaves them. </p>
<p>He gets to his shelves of books. This is where it gets hard; there’s so many. He tells himself to choose five. A book of poems which includes Poe, “Junkie” by Burroughs, a book about knives, Greek mythology, and one more.....</p>
<p>His eyes land on Huck Finn. A book his grandfather read to him, cover to cover, night after night before bed when he was about 9 years old. He has such fond memories of that special time, looking forward every night to hear what adventures Huck and Jim were going to encounter. He often imagined himself being Huck, fleeing from abuse, faking his own death to live more freely, and living for adventure. </p>
<p>Nikki pulls the book out, and thumbs through the worn pages; a picture slips out. He picks it up from the floor. It’s a picture of his mom. He remembers now. His grandfather used the photo as a bookmark. And after the reading for the night was done, Nikki would take hold of the photo and say goodnight to his mom. He and his grandfather would take turns guessing what adventures Deana had that day, with hope that tomorrow would be the day that she comes home from her adventures to him. They read through the whole book long before she came home next. He knows now that her only adventures were in hotel rooms and bars.</p>
<p>Nikki tucks the photo back into the book, and places the 5 of them into a box. He checks his drawers, one last time, to make sure he has all of his pocket knives, fishing tackle and such, checks under the bed, and looks around once more. He picks up his football uniform, #6, and sighs. It will stay. His posters will stay. The other books will stay, and he can only hope that he’ll see them again some day.</p>
<p>Nikki determines three trips out to the van will do it; his duffle bag, a few small boxes, and his bedding and mattress. He picks up the boxes and heads out with them.</p>
<p>“Are you leaving?” Deana asks, as he passes by.</p>
<p>“I’ll be back in. I have a few more things.”</p>
<p>Tommy is relieved to see Nikki coming out the door. He gets out of the van and opens the back for him.</p>
<p>“I was getting worried. Are you OK?”</p>
<p>Nikki nods. “I’m fine. I gotta go back in for a few more things, including my mattress.”</p>
<p>“Do you need a hand? Your ribs.”</p>
<p>“I got it, Tom. It’s probably best to just let me do this.”</p>
<p>“OK.”</p>
<p>Nikki goes back in for the mattress next.</p>
<p>“You’re taking your bed?” Deana asks, as he passes by, after sliding the mattress down the staircase.</p>
<p>“Just the mattress, mom.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to go, Nikki,” Deana says, as he wrestles to get the mattress through the door. He leaves it with Tommy to get it into the van, then goes back in for the rest.</p>
<p>Nikki takes his duffle bag and the bedding; remembering that he should grab a towel or two. He brings the bag into the bathroom and throws in the rest of his personal hygiene stuff that he left behind last time, along with the towels.</p>
<p>Walking back down the hallway, Nikki stands at the door to his room one more time, looking at all the things that are still in there, then shuts his door. It kind of felt like closing the coffin on his youth. He goes downstairs, placing the bag and bedding by the door, to say goodbye to his mom.</p>
<p>Nikki can tell that she’s on the verge of tears, and notices her hands shaking.</p>
<p>“I’m leaving, mom.”</p>
<p>“I wish you’d reconsider staying. I feel alone…. I know things have been a little difficult around here. But we’ve had some good times, haven’t we, son?” Deana says, tears surfacing.</p>
<p>“Mom, the good times never lasted. And you know that. We just can’t make a go of this.”</p>
<p>“You’re always thinking of yourself.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes I have to because you only think of me when I fit into your scheme.”</p>
<p>“Nikki you’re my son. I tried--”</p>
<p>“Mother, I made you look at my face last time I was here. You never look at me after something happens. You never want to face it, admit there’s a problem, or acknowledge that I was hurt in some way. I made you look at me. I needed you to see me hurt, so that you can understand why I can’t stay here. I’m the one who tried, not you. I tried, and I was always met with failure. I’m not going to allow myself to fail anymore. I’m going to be something. You’ll see. I want you to be proud of me, mom. And I can’t do that while I’m here. Every blow crushes my soul just a little bit more each time something happens. No more, mother.”</p>
<p>Deana gets to her feet. “You’re not an innocent pawn in this, Nikki! You’ve not been a perfect son! And now, you and that fag. Is that how you’re going to make me proud? Are you going to be a proud fag?”</p>
<p>Nikki takes hold of his mother in both arms. She struggles for a second or two, then melts into her tall son, crying.</p>
<p>“Please don’t leave me alone, Nikki,” she sobs.</p>
<p>“I’ll make you proud someday,” Nikki says, fighting his own tears. He kisses the top of her head, then walks away towards the door to gather his belongings.</p>
<p>“Bye mom. Love you.” He closes the door.</p>
<p>Tommy sees Nikki come out, and prepares to take his bag and place it in the crowded van. He can tell that Nikki is upset.</p>
<p>“I got the mattress in. It wasn’t easy.”</p>
<p>“OK. Let’s just go,” Nikki says, throwing the bedding on top of everything, then hopping in the front seat.</p>
<p>Tears start flowing when Tommy begins to back out of the driveway. Tommy reaches for Nikki’s hand.</p>
<p>---------------------</p>
<p>Tommy had asked Nikki if he wanted to go straight to Micks to drop off the mattress, but Nikki declined, feeling as though he needed some time to decompress. They’re not practicing today, because Vince has some family event to attend to. So, Nikki said that they can go over to Mick’s sometime before his 9pm work shift starts.</p>
<p>Nikki brings the duffle bag inside so that he can get his dirty laundry done. Mick doesn’t have a washer or dryer, so it means going to the laundro-mat, which in other words, means that he’ll be wearing dirty clothes most of the time going forward. It will be good to start his time at Mick’s place with freshly laundered clothes. He puts a load of laundry in, and seeks out Tommy’s dad to ask him something. He finds him outside fixing a piece of trim.</p>
<p>“Hi Mr. Bass,” Nikki says.</p>
<p>“Hi Nicholas. How’s your day been?”</p>
<p>“It’s been OK. I stopped at my mom’s place to gather some more of my stuff. Um, my mom might be moving back to Idaho or maybe Washington.”</p>
<p>“Sorry to hear that,” Mr. Bass says, lining a nail up.</p>
<p>“It’s OK. I wasn’t planning on going back there to live. I did want to let you know that I found a place to go. So, I wanted to thank you for taking me in. It really means a lot to me. I liked being here. So, thank you.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome. We’re happy to be able to help out one of my son’s friends. I’m sorry to have you leave, but as I said, it’s all about growing and learning to care for yourself. We maybe could have helped you out for a few more days until you found a place, but it looks like you accomplished that on your own. See, young man... these are the things that help you grow into a man. Tommy should expect similar expectations when he approaches 18. No one gets a free ride.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. Um, I wanted to ask you if I can make a long distance phone call to my grandparents in Idaho? I’ll, of course, reimburse you for the call,” Nikki asks.</p>
<p>“Sure thing. Just keep track of your time.”</p>
<p>“Thank you. I haven’t spoken to them in a long time. I just want to hear their voices.”</p>
<p>Nikki misses his grandparents a great deal. He does want to hear their voices, but he also wants to talk about the stereo. He anticipates it won’t go well, mainly because he refuses to tell them what’s been going on at home. </p>
<p>They know that Nikki and Deana butt heads, and they’ve seen some violence, like a slap across the face. But it’s never been a huge deal. Just like most parents and grandparents out there these days, Tom and Nona are proponents of spanking kids when they’re young, getting switches off the fruit trees for a whipping, or a smack with a wooden spoon. But, there’s more than just a fine line between standard punishment and the abuse the Deana and her boyfriends dish out. It’s always been hidden from his grandparents, and he’s not about to reveal anything today.</p>
<p>Nikki makes the phone call, and hangs up 9 minutes later with tears in his eyes. He’s not getting the stereo. He’s not upset with them. He could hear it in Tom’s voice how hard it was to say no. But the bottom line is that Nikki didn’t live up to his end of the deal. He dropped out. He knows that if Tom and Nona knew that he was being beaten and that a teacher tried to seduce him, that they would have better understood his decision to drop out. But he just can’t tell them. They’ll be hurt to know that he’s been hurt.</p>
<p>Nikki sits near the phone for a minute, deciding whether to go to his room to grieve his loss alone, or to knock on Tommy’s door. He decides to go to Tommy, especially because he’ll only be here a few more days.</p>
<p>Nikki enters Tommy’s room, and finds him spread out on his bed, asleep. Mattress wrangling must have really worn him out, Nikki thinks, bringing a slight smile to his tear-streaked face. He sits on the floor by Tommy’s head. He’s struck by Tommy’s beauty, as he so often is. He sits and stares for a while, musing over which Greek god, divine hero, or mortal Tommy would be representative of. Maybe Himeros, the young god of sexual desire. Nikki, satisfied with the conclusion he’s drawn, strokes Tommy’s hair, which rouses him.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he says with a sleepy smile. “I guess I dozed off.” As Tommy’s eyes focus on Nikki’s face, his smile drops off. “What’s wrong?” he asks, propping himself up on an elbow towards his friend.</p>
<p>“I’m not getting the stereo.” A fresh tear rolls down Nikki’s cheek.</p>
<p>“Are you serious? Did you explain why you had to drop-out?”</p>
<p>“Not really, Tom. I can’t. I can’t tell them what goes on. It will break their hearts, and make things worse for my mom. She needs someone stable in her life, and they’re all she has.”</p>
<p>“But it’s not fair.”</p>
<p>“I know. I’m not upset with them. I’m just upset overall. I wanted that so badly, and I almost made it. Music means everything to me. I tried. Even when I try, things don’t work out.”</p>
<p>“What’s mine is yours. I got one, and you can use it anytime.”</p>
<p>“You know that I can’t. Especially when I move out. It’s just like everytime I think something good can happen, it doesn’t. I just feel so alone sometimes. Like the world just likes shitting on me.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Nikki. Today pretty much sucked ass.”</p>
<p>“Yeah….. my mom is probably going to move back home.”</p>
<p>“Like, where you came from?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I mean, I don’t really care. It’s just that I really have no home anymore. Even though I was never going to go back, I won’t have a home.”</p>
<p>“You have your grandparents, right?”</p>
<p>“I know. Thanks. I guess it’s just that I’m really going to be on my own since I’m staying here in California. I already kind of have been on my own for years,” Nikki says with a shrug.</p>
<p>“I’ll be with you,” Tommy says.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</p>
<p>Tommy smiles, relieved that Nikki isn’t pushing him away, since a lot of people tend to do that when they’re feeling defeated.</p>
<p>“New things are going to happen, Nikki. I mean, look how far we’ve come with the band already. One day, we’ll have people asking us about our beginnings; and we’ll each have a good story to tell. A whole bunch of <em>dirt</em> to dish out,” Tommy says.</p>
<p>“Stop ruining my bad mood, T,” Nikki says, with sarcasm.</p>
<p>Tommy smiles, and positions himself so he can latch onto Nikki’s lips.</p>
<p>Although Nikki is still upset about the stereo, and probably will be for a while. Spending time with Tommy makes him realize how toxic having his mom around is; remembering the things that she said about him earlier. He’ll never tell Tommy what she said. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s a true gem.</p>
<p>“We have a few hours before we have to leave for Mick’s to get my mattress there. But the bulky thing renders it impossible for us to utilize the van for other activities. Wanna just stay here and put some music on? Maybe I’ll find a cozy spot on the floor to curl up my emotionally spent body to take a nap,” Nikki suggests.</p>
<p>Tommy agrees to that, reaching back for Nikki’s lips.</p>
<p>------------------------</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I finished my next short story. It's another reader's request and was something completely out of my wheelhouse, but I conquered it... I think. It's Terrorcest, but there's other relationships happening too... that was different for me to write.</p>
<p>Children of the Beast has 2 more chapters. Then the next story will begin posting. I have more reader requests pending, so they'll be more forthcoming. </p>
<p>Thanks for reading. I always appreciate your feedback.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19 - New Year's Evil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little narrative about how the holiday were spent.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the only title that is not a song, but related to the Shout era. Their infamous 1982 New Year's Eve make it or break it concert was aptly dubbed New Year's Evil. Thankfully they caught the eye of manager Doug Thaler that night via insistence from Ronnie Dio to go check out the band. If not, they we're on the verge of calling it quits, not being able to find new management since firing Allan Coffman. I think it was mentioned in The Dirt that Vince was in tears that night because his utilities were being shut off due to lack of payment.<br/>-------------</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A bit over a month had passed, since the day that Nikki packed up his bedroom at his mom’s house. His mother did relocate back to Idaho, right before Christmas. Nikki never went back to the house, and had no idea what happened to the rest of his belongings. He only knew that she had left because he called his grandparents on Christmas day. They were relieved to hear from him, having been alarmed when Deana showed up back home without him, with no knowledge of where he was living in California. <em> How do you just leave him there alone, Deana? Not even knowing where he is? </em></p><p> </p><p>Nikki assured them that he was fine; living with a friend in a safe place. He gave Tom and Nona Mick’s phone number, and pleaded with them not to share it with his mother. Before hanging up the phone, he told them that he missed them. Not to worry, and that everything was fine. The only problem, it wasn’t really. </p><p> </p><p>Yes, some things were going just the way he wanted. The band made a hell of a lot of progress on their songs. They were improving, and starting to fire on all cylinders as a cohesive unit. Getting better with every practice. They were close to becoming good enough for the stage. A few amateur demos had been recorded, and a drum riser with lights was being crafted in Vince’s garage. </p><p> </p><p>Nikki, Tommy, and Vince scoured cheap stores, and even dumpsters for flashy and unique things that could be used and worn on stage; colored electrical tape, a phone cord, scarves, dog collars and chain leashes. Both Tommy and Vince covertly rummaged through their sisters’ belongings for things that could be worked into their stage costuming; coming away with a few fitted tops, a belt, bangles, and charms. Tommy also swiped a pair of tight, ass-grabbing pants that he figured his sister shouldn’t be wearing anyway. He was doing her a favor by pinching them from her.</p><p> </p><p>Since Nikki’s 18th birthday, he had been able to pick up more hours at work. It’s kind of a pain in the ass to get there from Mick’s apartment. Sometimes Tommy picks him up, or Mick drives him. Most often, he’s spending money to take the bus to and from, but at least he makes enough now to cover half the rent with a little leftover for food and beverage. He’s been considering a second job, late night, sweeping floors at the Starwood. The job would suck, but to be in the club and meeting bands, would be considered a bonus to Nikki. </p><p> </p><p>Mick is a gig worker, filling in as needed for certain house bands, as well as some roadie work, which isn’t good for his bad back. Nikki knows there was no way that Mick is making enough money for rent from these part time, under-the-table gigs. Mick eventually revealed his income source, which is SSI disability. He’s receiving it through some loophole in the system, regarding disabled children who have been diagnosed with their disabilities before age 22. Lucky break for him. OK, not really; having a cemented spine can’t be all that fun. As a matter of fact, it's downright awful. It’s why he drinks so much, to ease the pain.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of pain, Nikki’s inner turmoil was at full tilt. He was semi dealing with the news of his mother leaving, the loss of the stereo, the let-down at school, all in normal fashion. Meaning he went about his daily business without much need for numbing, just some basic depression and anger. But when the day came for him to move out of Tommy’s house, he felt lost; for more than one reason. </p><p> </p><p>Firstly, that nearly month-long stay at his house was about as apple-pie-normal as he’s ever felt. It was a taste of ordinary living, without abuse, abandonment, loneliness, and longing. It was now over. And even though he knows that Mr. Bass isn’t his biggest fan, he tries not to hold it against him; afterall he knows he does have his faults. He misses the stability, the safety, the caring, and clamor. Yeah, all that yelling in Greek and English, and the sibling rivalry gets irritating at times, but it’s comforting to Nikki just the same, knowing it’s the dynamics of a typical functioning family. </p><p> </p><p>Secondly, there was the reality that <em> this was it. </em> Nikki was really on his own. Yeah, with Mick, but his childhood was officially over. And looking back, it mostly sucked. It’s time to be an adult and do adult things, whatever that is. But in some ways, he still feels like a lost and needy boy. Maybe expecting some sort of golden key, trophy, certificate, or pat on the head for making it through. <em> Well done, child. You made it. You beat the odds. </em>But there was nothing like that. Nothing to transition him into being his own manager now. It’s frightening to him in some ways because he knows that he is capable of continuing on with the pattern of abuse that he’s been used to. But he’s now being the one to dispense it upon himself. </p><p> </p><p>Thirdly, he was leaving his Tommy, his baby. Yes, they would still see each other more than a few times a week, but it’s not going to be the same. No more daily rides to school, hanging out listening to music, family dinners, and sneaking into each others’ room in the wee hours of the morning. Tommy has become a lot of things to him. His confidant, his lover, his business partner, his psychiatrist, his best friend, and voice of reason. His energy and reason to smile. He was like that tattered teddy bear that you cling to for comfort. Nikki knows without Tommy’s watchful eye, that bad decisions were afoot.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki is thankful for Mick. He’s not quite the same as Tommy, no one ever could be. But he <b>is</b> around, and seems in tune with Nikki’s moods. Often dishing out advice and sharing anecdotal stories about his own mistakes, perhaps hoping that Nikki will heed the lessons learned from them. </p><p> </p><p>Mick had once been briefly married at age 19. Such a stupid thing to do, but the girl was pregnant. They have a son. Mick does what he can to help, sending money. But he only gets to see the boy a few times a year. </p><p> </p><p>Nikki was shocked to learn about this. He knows all too well what it’s like to have an absent dad. The difference with Mick is that he at least tries. It’s the ex that keeps Mick at arm’s length, really only interested in the money that comes in. </p><p> </p><p>This scenario got Nikki thinking. What if his dad had been kept from him? What if it was his mother who kept him away? This revelation got Nikki worked up, trying to find contact info for his dad. He was able to weasel a little information out of his grandparents, and eventually got himself a phone number for a man named Frank Feranna, his father. </p><p> </p><p>The day Nikki picked up the phone to call him, he was filled with all sorts of anticipation. He wondered if his dad would cry. Nikki envisioned a tearful reunion between them. A long phone call, catching up, maybe costing him half of his paycheck for the toll call, but it would all be worth it. </p><p> </p><p>Only, none of that happened. He reached Frank Feranna on the phone. Nikki introduced himself, his heart pounding, waiting for that cry…. that gasp from his father that his long lost son was on the phone. Instead, after a lengthy pause, he was told to never call there again, and then was disconnected. Nikki’s ears were invaded with the unexpected sound of a dial tone. He hung up the receiver, and was visibly shaken; DEVASTATED, was the only way to put it. Truly abandoned and left alone by both parents.</p><p> </p><p>All of this has been a catalyst for an uptick in the use of narcotics and alcohol. He needs them, Nikki tells himself. Without them, the pain was just too much…. </p><p> </p><p>Better drunk ,than crying in bed.</p><p>Better high, than being dead. </p><p>Better numb, than a bullet to the head.</p><p> </p><p>-----------------------</p><p> </p><p>Over in West Covina, things aren’t faring much better for young Tommy Bass. Once Nikki vacated the house, it felt empty, annoying, and bland. He misses his counterpart. And as much as he knows that family is a blessing, he feels depleted. </p><p> </p><p>While Nikki was there, Tommy had felt a sense of comfort, knowing that the raven-haired boy was just a floor below him. Close by, and out of harm's way. Every night he’d go through a ritual of saying goodnight with a kiss, and retreating to his own room. Recalling the events of the day and the things that they talked about, as he got ready for bed. After crawling into bed, he’d wonder what Nikki was doing, just a floor below. Was he reading? Was he writing? Was he maturbating? Was he sleeping, and if so what had he been thinking about when he drifted off? What would he dream about? Tommy’s thoughts would eventually lull himself to sleep, or have him reaching for his trusty Vaseline.</p><p> </p><p>Now…. there are too many buildings, street corners, and traffic lights between them. There is no warmth on his lips before going to his bedroom. No scent of sweat, and VO5 invading his nostrils. No ‘goodnight baby’ rolling off of Nikki’s tongue; that melty, buttery voice left dancing around through the channels in his brain, ultimately settling either in his heart for the night, or in his cock.</p><p> </p><p>Instead Tommy lies in bed wondering, whether Nikki made it home from work in one piece. Hoping he’s not obliterating his mind. Wondering what Nikki and Mick talked about. Wondering if Nikki has a girl in his bed for the evening. He knows that he has. Nikki never vowed to cut the girls out completely. He just said that he would try. Well, now that sex between the pair is less frequent, he’s certain the girl visitations have increased. </p><p> </p><p>Nikki told Tommy that Mick and Cathy are not really a steady item anymore, but every now and then; maybe once a week, she’s there. It’s a thing of convenience between them. She brought her sister with her once. Tommy already knows what happened. Although, when he lets his mind wander, he shivers with disgust when he envisions a foursome with the sisters and the bandmates. It makes him sick, although it’s most likely just a scenario dreamed up in his head.</p><p> </p><p>The progress of the band had been rather exciting though. It really just seems to be falling into place, the biggest obstacles these days are Vince and himself; having to make school a priority. At 16, Tommy is old enough to legally drop-out without his parents’ consent. He thinks about it often. School, which was such a part of his life in years prior….friends (boy and girls), marching band, hallway antics and class clown gaffes have been a solid part of Tommy’s life, but not so much anymore. He’s finding it hard to concentrate, and has lost interest in most classes, often being called out for daydreaming. The thing is, he knows that he’ll never be able to do it. He’ll never be able to face his parents and tell them that he’s dropping out. They’ll flip! They’ll demand that he shape up or ship out. They’ll be disappointed for sure. Maybe, just maybe by next school year, he’ll do it. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy finds himself envying Vince and where he is with his mindset of dropping out. Yes, he wants to drop-out as well. There’s just not enough hours in the day to go to school, do homework, and plan for world domination in the music industry. The thing with Vince, besides being a little older at 17, is that he has nothing invested in school. Yeah, he’s got his friends and he’s got his fucks, but he’s not involved in anything else. He was done with baseball freshman year, after he was told to cut his hair or else. Since then, it’s only been a social scene for him. Homecoming King? Who gives a fuck as long as he got laid that night. Vince is closer to the reality of dropping-out more than Tommy is, and it upsets him. They both come from stable homes, so how is it that Vince can so easily disappoint his parents and not give a shit, while Tommy can hardly bear the thought? </p><p> </p><p>Tommy, simply put, is fucked. He can’t seem to break from his pattern, and he’s consumed with thoughts of Nikki moving on from him. He pulled out the stops, in an over-exerted attempt to keep Nikki interested. He got the broken key on Nikki’s bass fixed for his birthday, plus an Italian feast from a local restaurant. </p><p> </p><p>At Christmas time, Tommy got to spend time with Nikki on the 24th. He bought him the newest Aerosmith live album and the newest Johnny Thunders album; both favorite artists of Nikki’s. He also presented him with 2 tubes of lubricant; a not so subtle way to remind the bassist that he enjoys being his sexual partner, immensely. Tommy nearly fainted with embarrassment while buying the lube; especially when the elderly lady behind the register couldn’t quite make out the smudged price sticker, and had to call out for a price check. Tommy is sure he turned 50 shades of red. Why do these oddball, humiliating things only happen to him?</p><p> </p><p>Nikki showed his appreciation for the gifts in Tommy’s van when he walked him out at the end of the chilly night, after they spent a fun evening in with Mick drinking and playing cards. Oddly enough, it was Mick’s doing of bringing a small Christmas tree into the apartment. He said that he’s never gone without one, and had to keep the tradition. The tree was kind of pathetic, looking more like a tree skeleton; a tree that was malnourished and starved. But once it was dressed up with a string of twinkling lights, cheeseballs on ornament hooks, and a beer can star, it was quite the jolly little spectacle. It sat there twinking at them through the evening, in sync with the staticky Christmas tunes that blasted through the clock/radio. The carols were another thing that Mick insisted upon. Weird… the other two thought. But it gave them a deeper view into Mick’s warm human side versus his usual icy alien side.</p><p> </p><p>New Year’s Eve was another fun night at the apartment with the foursome and a few gals. Tommy kept a tight rein on Nikki, inserting himself between the girls and the bassist whenever he felt someone was about to make a move on his man. Nikki swatted Tommy away a few times, but ultimately Tommy is the one who won the kiss at midnight by causing an intentional diversion of knocking over a table full of bottles at 11:59 and 55 seconds. When the clock struck midnight Tommy leapt out from the center of the chaos, and planted a firm kiss on Nikki’s lips while everyone else was scurrying to save their drinks, missing their lip-locked moments. Doesn’t matter now if one of those chicks connects with Nikki’s lips after the fact. Tommy got the first kiss of 1979 with Nikki.  </p><p> </p><p>1979… Tommy feels giddy as he daydreams about spending the next 365 days in love with Nikki Feranna. And with his 17th birthday looming in the near future, a transitional age from kid to adult, he sees this being the best year yet. </p><p> </p><p>For Nikki, he has a good feeling about what’s to come this year. He’s in charge of it all, and that means that all of his dreams are going to happen. He’ll make sure of it. After the New Year’s kiss on the sly from Tommy, the bassist hooked him with his arm around his neck, pulling him close. “I see your game. Never stop thrilling me, baby,” Nikki whispered with seductive boozy breath.</p><p> </p><p>1979 is looking fine.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I want to give a shout out to Kimmy/armorangel. About half way through this story, she became my beta reader. </p><p>I know I can tell a good story, and my writing skills are decent, but I also know that I can be better. There are some outstanding writers here. I know I have room to improve. </p><p>I suck at typing, for one. I proof and proof and proof, but I find that it's actually pretty difficult to proof your own work effectively. I tend to inadvertantly glaze over a lot because I know the story, but then I miss errors. I also have a few weak spots with sentence flow and going in out of tense. Kimmy has been helping with all of that. </p><p>It was also suggested that I start writing in the past tense, instead of present by more than one writer. Too late for my next story, but I'm going to give it a try on my following one.</p><p>Thank you so much Kimmy, for those who have given me tips, and for the readers and commenters who stop by.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Shout at the Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tommy is sticking to his guns.</p><p>Nikki is sticking to his bottle.</p><p>The find a comfortable middle ground.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the final chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>It’s Sunday, the first full week of January. Tommy and his dad are in the garage doing oil changes.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, hand me the filter wrench,” Mr. Bass says, holding his hand out from underneath the car. “And stop drumming your fingers on the car.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, dad. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”</p><p> </p><p>After he tightens the nut, Mr. Bass scoots himself out from underneath the car. As he sits and wipes his hands off on a rag, he says to Tommy, “By the way, if you have plans this Saturday, you need to cancel them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um... well, I do have tentative plans. And if it happens, I can’t cancel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cancel them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“You and I are taking a day trip to an Junior ROTC open house event at San Diego State.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, I can’t. We have a potential show on Saturday night. We’re waiting to get word.”</p><p> </p><p>“Too bad,” Mr. Bass says, getting to his feet, dusting his hands off.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I can’t cancel. This could be our first big break. I’m not letting the guys down to go to some event that I’m not interested in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, we’re talking about your future, not some silly whim.”</p><p> </p><p>“The band and the music is my future. It’s what I want to do. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want the ROTC or military in my future?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going. I’ve already registered you for the event.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s heart is pounding. He has to <em> stick to his guns. </em> This is important. Fuck, on any other day, maybe he’d go just to placate his dad, but not this Saturday. He can’t back down; his band is depending on him. “Dad, I can’t go. I already have an obligation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas, this isn’t up for debate. You need to get your head out of the clouds, and explore something that’s worthwhile and will help mold you into the man that you’re meant to be. Not some hooligan with long hair and earrings!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m meant to be a drummer.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re my son, and you’re meant to follow in my footsteps. It’s been the same through the generations, and it’s going to continue.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I’m not. I’m doing what I want to do,” Tommy asserts, starting to shake, but not backing down. This Saturday night show is too important.</p><p> </p><p>“You WILL listen to me, or you will not be leaving this house for a very long time!!”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you going to do? Lock me in my room? You can’t stop me from doing what I want to do!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yes, I can. You’re still under the rules of this house, and you’re going to the event this Saturday.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m NOT going, dad! They don’t want me anyway!”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course they do! You have military in your blood, son!”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’m also gay! They don’t want me!” Tommy snaps, wishing immediately that he can stuff those words back into his voice box.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?! What did you say?”</p><p> </p><p> “I…. I… dad, I…. oh my god--” Tommy utters, grabbing wads of his hair in each hand.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t say that. No you’re not. You’re military.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, um…... Dad, it’s true.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you’re just confused. We can work this out. I’ll call the family doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was confused. I’m not anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re confused!!” Mr. Bass yells, pinning Tommy against the wall by his neck. “Tom… you’re confused. The doctor will know who you can speak with. There’s psychiatrists out there. Good ones, who can help you,” he says, relaxing his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need to see a doctor.” </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll make an appointment tomorrow, when the offices open.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you stop with this absurd notion. You… you had girlfriends. Like, Melissa and Nicky, Tom. Pretty girls. You’re confused,” Mr. Bass says, shaking his finger at Tommy, as he recalled those girls’ names.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t feel anything for them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nicky. You were dreaming about Nicky, son. That’s your subconscious speaking. Don’t you understand that? That’s what you really want.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, dad. I <em> was </em> dreaming about Nikki.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can call her up, and have her over for dinner again. She’s a beautiful girl. You’ll make a nice couple.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not Nicole Johannsen. Nikki isn’t just short for Nicole.”</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Bass clenches his jaw, then suddenly slams his hands on the hood of the car, causing Tommy to jump. “Nicholas! That son of bitch! I’ll kill him!”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad,” Tommy says, taking steps backwards towards the open garage door. “I knew, long before I was even aware that he existed, that I felt this way. He had nothing to do with the way I feel. He’s just a result of what I already knew inside.”</p><p> </p><p>“You tricked us into having him live here, knowing that we wouldn’t approve!”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy decides now is not the time to let his dad know that his mom already knows. He’s pretty sure that she’ll tell him the truth herself, but he won’t dare bring her into this now. “No one tricked you. He was someone in trouble who needed help. He’s a good person, dad. He just needed help. His mom--”</p><p> </p><p>“A drug user who preyed on you. See! What did I tell you? This is what someone turns into when there’s no strong father figure in his life.”</p><p> </p><p>“No! He didn’t prey on me! If anything, I pursued him. And we already discussed the drugs. He was in pain, and using something to relax himself,” Tommy gulps. “He likes girls. He wasn’t seeking me. We just bonded over music. We just connected. He’s a good person, dad.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to see a doctor, Tommy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, I’m not seeing a doctor. There’s nothing medically wrong with me. And there’s nothing in my head that’s curable. I am the way I am. I know that it’s shocking, and maybe a let down to you, but I’m finally getting to a place where I’m OK with myself, and I like where I am. I am not seeing a doctor! I am not enrolling with ROTC or the military! I’m not cutting my hair or removing my earrings!” Tommy’s voice starts to waver. “They won’t take me anyway. And I’m keeping my Saturday night plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t even talk to you right now,” Mr. Bass says, turning on his heel to go back inside the house, murmuring something about earrings. He flings the inner door open wide, then slams it behind himself, leaving Tommy standing alone in the garage.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy places his face in his hands, as he tries to fight back tears. He wanders outside and sits on the edge of the driveway, not sure what to do. He sits there in a daze, in the chilly air, picking up small pieces of gravel and throwing them. About 15 minutes later his mother comes outside, in her overcoat, and sits down next to him, on the driveway. She drapes a throw blanket over his shoulders. Tommy just leans into her, and the tears finally start flowing.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom, I’m sorry,” he whispers.</p><p> </p><p>“You have nothing to be sorry about,” his mother says, rubbing his back.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It wasn’t my plan. I know it probably put you on that spot. Did you tell him you knew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Tommy. Your dad, well... he’ll need some time, love. It’s not an easy thing to hear about.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, mom. And Nikki. He hates him, and…. “ Tommy takes a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, he loves you, and he’ll come to understand someday what Nikki means to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t ask for this, but I have to accept it because I know that I’ll never feel any other way. I tried, but this is who I am, and who I’ve been. Nikki…. well, he’s what finally makes it OK. He makes me understand, and accept it. And because of him, I don’t want to be the other way. I want….. mom, I want him. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”</p><p> </p><p>Voula offers a warm smile. “Your father and I knew the day after we met that we wanted to be together…. forever. No one could have ever convinced me otherwise. I just knew, and so did he. And yes, many people thought it was wrong; marrying within a day. We could barely even communicate. But we knew that we loved each other. Sometimes you just know when you find your partner…. Even when others don’t see it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never thought of it like that,” Tommy says. “I’m not sick in the head, mom. I’m just in love. And I love him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Love is from the heart and the soul. Your mind steps in to help rationalize things when your heart is hurting or melting or leaping. Your mind will help you stay sane and grounded, but it will rarely change the rhythm of the way your heart beats and the way your soul yearns. Lead with your heart, son.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods his head, as a few more tears roll down his face. “What do I do? I’m not trying to hurt dad or disobey, but I can’t be what he wants me to be. I’ll wilt away, mom. I’ll crumble and die.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stay true to yourself, dear. The words will come.”</p><p> </p><p>“How is he now?” Tommy asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Upset. Concerned. Hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Tommy sighs. “I need time, and maybe he does too…. Before one of us says something beyond repair. I’m gonna leave for a few days. Not because I’m angry. I just think it’s what we both need right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy, you have school.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll still go. I promise. I just need to clear my head. I need to leave, mom. I can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Voula holds Tommy’s face in her hands, and says something in Greek. He doesn’t know what she said, but he knows it was something from the heart. A tear rolls down her face, as she kisses his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” Tommy says, hugging his mom. Then he stands and helps her up. </p><p> </p><p>They go back inside. Tommy doesn’t see his dad around, so he just goes up to his room to pack some things for a few days.</p><p> </p><p>It takes him about 15 minutes. He knocks on Athena’s bedroom door.</p><p> </p><p>“What!?” she snaps.</p><p> </p><p>He opens it.</p><p> </p><p>She cranes her head from the position she’s sitting in to give him the death stare for disturbing her, “What do you want, stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I’m not going to be home for a few days. Dad and I had a fight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what? Is he kicking you out?” Athena asks, spinning around to face him now.</p><p> </p><p>“No, we just need time to cool off, OK. I just thought you should know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Athena says, pursing her lips with a look of consternation.</p><p> </p><p>As much as they fight, they also have a bond, and Tommy knows by her face that this newsbrief is upsetting to her. She’ll never say so though.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be back. It will be good. And I’ll see you in school, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“OK. I guess I’ll see you then. Is dad like pissed? I thought I heard him and mom yelling about something,” Athena says, pulling her headphones off.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Mom is helping to cool him off.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was it about?”</p><p> </p><p>“Some stuff for another day. But a lot about the Junior ROTC and military bullshit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that,” Athena rolls her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. The 100 year war.” Tommy smirks.</p><p> </p><p>“OK. Later, moron.”</p><p> </p><p>“See you soon, loser,” Tommy says, shutting her door.</p><p> </p><p>He goes down the steps, and can now see that his dad is sitting at his desk in his office, on the far end of the living room. He approaches the doorway to the office.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad?” Tommy swallows hard.</p><p> </p><p>His dad doesn’t look up, as he shuffles papers around as a distraction. “What do you need, Tom?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m leaving for a few days. I think we need some time apart. You know… to cool off.”</p><p> </p><p>His dad doesn’t reply.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad, I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. I love you too,” Mr. Bass says, turning his back away to scrounge through a wastepaper basket.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy knows there’s nothing in there that he’s looking for, he’s just avoiding eye contact. Maybe because he’s tearing up. Tommy has never seen his dad cry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be back,” Tommy says, walking away.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay safe, son.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stops to hug his mother. They kiss and tell each other <em> I love you </em>once more, then he leaves.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------</p><p> </p><p>Across the way, in the realm of Greater L.A., Nikki is kicking back on the couch. Nicely sedated, with a notebook in hand, but not much being written down…. doodles more than anything. When there’s a knock upon the apartment door.</p><p> </p><p>“Come in,” Nikki yells, too settled to get up.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy opens the door and steps in.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki picks his head up, a smile crawls up on his face. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you until later.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s face is solemn, as he walks over to the couch, dropping his bags on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong, T?”</p><p> </p><p>“Think Mick will let me stay here for a few days?”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Nikki says, pulling his legs off the couch to sit up, and make room for Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>“Well….. it slipped out. I…..um…. I told my dad that I’m… well, that I’m gay.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Wait, what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, it was the first time I said that out loud, to anyone. But it wasn’t the right person to say it to. I don’t know what to do, Nikki,” Tommy mutters, running his hand through his hair nervously.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me what happened. Did you get into an argument?” Nikki asks, trying to keep his half lidded eyes focused.</p><p> </p><p>“God, Nikki. It was about that stupid Junior ROTC thing again,” Tommy says, putting his face in his hands. “It just got out of hand. Like he wanted me to cancel my plans for Saturday. Can you imagine?.... </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Hey guys, uh… sorry I can’t play for our first show. I gotta go wave some fucking flags and guns around. Smile and shake hands with a bunch of suited up homophobes. Hope it works out for you.’  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>…...It all just got out of hand. He was being so stubborn about it, and not listening to me, and then it slipped out,” Tommy rambles.</p><p> </p><p>“I take it that your dad is upset about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s putting it lightly. And I’m sorry, he hates you. He knows. He brought up Nicky’s name. I just had to tell him the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean he brought me up? Did he suspect something between us?” Nikki asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit, Nikki. I never even told you. I mean, I couldn’t. It was embarrassing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tom, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>“The Nicky thing. The reason I introduced you to my family as Nicholas,” Tommy says, still rubbing his hands over his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that was irritating. But I didn’t know there was a story behind it, besides something with that girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck…. Ok, so one morning I was having a dream about you. Like, you know…. a wet dream.” Tommy’s face turns bright red.  “And…. Fuck, well I guess I said your name out loud in my sleep and my mom heard me when she was walking by or something. She fucking busted into my room to check for a girl. Then she asked me who’s Nikki, all while I’m trying to wake up out of the dream and throw covers over my hard-on. I mean, like... who’s mom would do that?!” Tommy says, now gesturing with his hands all over the place. </p><p> </p><p>“Then it gets worse,” he continues. “She fucking asks my sister, who Nikki is. Like, what the fuck? So, Athena tells my mom that it’s a girl, Nicky, in her grade who I was allegedly staring towards at the dance. You can’t make this fucking shit up. I had to go along with it. I couldn’t tell them it was you. I…. oh god, fuck!” Tommy says, folding himself in half over his lap.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki can’t help but to laugh. “Sorry for your unfortunate misery, Tom. I wish you told me that sooner because…. I’m sorry. I know you’re upset right now, but I can’t help but to laugh.”</p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t tell you. It happened before we even kissed.”</p><p> </p><p>“OK. Hey…. First, don’t worry about what anyone thinks about me. I’m used to being judged. I’m just like a big, dumb ox, and I have to let all that stuff just roll off of me, and keep plowing forward,” Nikki says, not fully meaning that. It does hurt, some. He wanted to be liked by the family, but he’ll never tell Tommy that. The kid has enough on his own plate. “Second, tell me what the pulse is over there. What’s gonna happen, T?”</p><p> </p><p>“OK, so my mom and I knew someday that my dad would have to be told, but there was like no plan of action to do so. But, then today happened. And well, now he knows, and he knows that you’re my Nikki. He’s upset, and doesn’t want to talk to me. He thinks that I need to see a shrink.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like getting cured of being gay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, something like that,” Tommy sighs. “You know, I wanted that for myself, for a long time. I didn’t want to be the way I am. I still sometimes have anxiety over it, and sometimes wonder <em> why me? </em>But, ever since I met you…. well, I like who I am. I like being with you. I--”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki pulls Tommy in for a deep kiss. “I miss you, baby.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy lingers close to Nikki’s face, “I didn’t know if you missed me. I kind of figured that you’d be moving on. You know, like now that you’re here, and you can do what you want, and not be tied up with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you think that I’d want to move on? I told you that you’re my baby,” Nikki says, kissing Tommy’s lips again.</p><p> </p><p>“But you won’t be mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tom…. it’s not what you think. It’s just because I do stupid things when I’m drunk or high. My heart is yours though. You got that exclusively,” Nikki says, with a warm grin, tipping the bottle of whiskey to drink. “I love my baby.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Tommy says, a tear in his eye, biting his lip. “You love me? Really? It’s like…. it’s just too good to be true. Like shitty things always happen to me. Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“T, you saved my life. You mean everything to me. I miss you every fucking day. And I’ll tell you some things that sound too good to be true, but they are true. Our band is going to make it, and you’re here and Mick is out somewhere. Come on,” Nikki says, standing up, holding his hand out to pull Tommy up off the couch. He takes the bottle of whiskey in his other hand.</p><p> </p><p>Once he’s on his feet, Tommy wraps his arms around Nikki. “I love you too. God, I love you so much. And I miss you too,” Tommy says, through happy tears.</p><p> </p><p>“Come here, baby.” Nikki leads Tommy to the corner of the room, where his mattress is on the floor. Stumbling on the way, as he pulls his shirt off.</p><p> </p><p>“What if Mick comes home?”</p><p> </p><p>“Then he gets a free peep show,” Nikki says, pulling Tommy’s shirt off.</p><p> </p><p>“Does he know?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki shrugs. “I dunno. I think he suspects. He’s pretty astute in pegging things the way that they are. If you’re staying here with me, he’ll find out soon anyway. You’ll sleep here with me, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s only a twin… I--”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhhh,” Nikki says, quieting Tommy putting his lips on his. Nikki pulls back handing Tommy the whiskey, while he unfastens the drummer’s pants. “A twin mattress works just fine for us. I need you close to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy takes some large gulps of the whiskey.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my boy,” Nikki says, taking the bottle back for himself.</p><p> </p><p>They each take their own pants off the rest of the way. Tommy lies down on the mattress, and Nikki climbs on top of him. They greedily kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think Mick will let me stay here?” Tommy asks when they break apart. “I want to lie here with you every night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh course he’ll say yes. He might bitch, but he’d bitch if Sophia Loren moved in… then he’d fuck her, after I fuck her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is he gonna fuck me, then?” Tommy asks, concerned in all seriousness.</p><p> </p><p>“Hell no. You’re mine,” Nikki grins. “I need you everyday, baby. Spread your legs for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki lubes himself up quickly, runs his fingers through Tommy for a minute to open him, then sinks himself between his open legs. The drummer gasps and moans at the penetration, grabbing a handful of Nikki’s backside.</p><p> </p><p>About a few minutes of complete, gratifying sex between the two partners elapse, when without warning, the front door flings open.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god!!! Bloody hell! You two dumbbells do this too?! I knew it! I knew it, but I didn’t want to know it!” Mick shrieks.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy freezes, while drunken Nikki’s cranes his neck towards him. “Shut the fuck up! You’re ruining the moment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Listen, bozo. I don’t care if you’re fucking him, Farrah Fawcett, or President Carter, just have the decency to cover yourself up! I don’t want to see your ass crack smiling at me the second I walk in the door,” Mick belts out, as he struts over to throw their freshly painted Motley Crue stage banner on top of them.</p><p> </p><p>He storms away towards his own room, then doubles back for a minute. “Hey, dipshits!”</p><p> </p><p>“What!?” Nikki snaps, trying to get back to the task at hand. With a stunned Tommy still trying to make sense of things, lying underneath him.</p><p> </p><p>“We got the gig,” Mick smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“Opening at The Starwood? Saturday?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we’re in,” Mick smiles, grabbing a bottle of schnapps off the coffee table, as he goes back towards his room. He leans back one more time, “And don’t get that fucking banner all cummed up!”</p><p> </p><p>Nikki turns back to face Tommy. “Did you hear that? We’re playing!! We got it,” Nikki says, fire dancing in his eyes. “We’re gonna make it.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods, his shot nerves dissipating as a smile spreads across his face.</p><p> </p><p>Nikki leans in to kiss Tommy, then props himself back up. “I told you, baby…. we’re gonna make it.”</p><p> </p><p>----------------------</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Nikki's celebrity crush is Sophia Loren. He one said that he wants to be her tampon.<br/>--------</p><p>**So, there it is. Kind of a soft ending there. They're teens, and they don't have their shit together. But, it's right where Motley Crue gets their big break. They're going places.</p><p>A few things:</p><p>1. There will be a bonus chapter following this in a few days. This story stemmed from a reader request. It was supposed to a one shot. So, I decided to write a one shot based on the request. Kind of just to see if I could do it. </p><p>2. I have a new 13 chapter story written, plus a short epilogue. That will be coming soon after proofing and editing. It's based on another reader request. And yes, another failed one shot.</p><p>3. I have 6 more reader requests to conquer. One or two more have the potential to become a multi-chapter story. Others will definitely just be one-offs. </p><p>4. I'm considering a part 2 for Children of the Beast. I got some ideas, but it may be awhile before I get to it. I gotta fulfill those other requests first.</p><p>Thanks again for reading, kudos, and comments. My next story will start soon. I don't have a title yet. It's Terrorcest of course. It takes place in 1991. Nikki and Tommy aren't playing nicey, nicey with each other. Happy ending though.There will be a few other guest stars in it, as per the reader's request.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Bonus Chapter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The fast version.....</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the one shot that I promised, based on the reader's request which inspired "God Bless the Children of the Beast." </p>
<p>I think I mentioned a few times that the request was supposed to just be a quick, little one-off. But I dove in deep, and ran with the concept, which resulted in a 20 chapter story. I've been wondering what would have been if I just stuck to keeping it short. So, here's a possibility of something I maybe would have written. </p>
<p>So, this is related to the book, in that they're both inspired by the reader's request, but they're not meant to mesh together. Two separate stories. 20 chapters vs 1 chapter. That said, I changed the personality of Tommy's character. It works better for this quickie piece. There's no time for a nervous, inexperienced Tommy.</p>
<p>Just as a refresher, here's the basic premise of the original request:</p>
<p>Tommy and Nikki are in high school together. Nikki is a football jock and Tommy is in the marching band. One day, Nikki is caught up in watching the band play, when he notices a tall, handsome kid in the drumline. The next day in school, he's determined to find out who it is....</p>
<p>Enjoy....</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nikki Feranna stepped out onto the football field. It was the day of his school’s first game of the season. He was feeling pumped, ready to release some of his pent up aggression. Something he had a lot of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki was new to this school. He recently relocated to southern California with his mother, from Seattle. His black teased hair generated a ton of sideways glances from kids in the school. His earrings, smudges of eyeliner, and his curious choice in attire had also added to his mystique. Most of the teens seemed wary of this fresh meat who decked the hallways. Friend or foe? Not many wanted to find out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For Nikki, his appearance was a streak of disobedience. He knew that his look bothered his mother, which brought him satisfaction. Every week or so, something new was added to the look; black painted fingernails, another earring, a splash of blood red hair dye, a dog collar, tight black pants that showed off his physique. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki didn’t have the best home life. His dad split when he was two. His mother didn’t pay much attention to him, and was more interested in bringing men home. Most of them were bonafide jerk-offs. The turbulent home life made Nikki ripe for a rebellious and restless heart. He stopped giving a shit a long time ago about what people thought of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t Nikki’s idea to join the football team. Jock was not a word that anyone would think to use to describe this dark angel. Yet, it was his aggressive behavior and strong-arm tactics in gym class that caught the eye of the coach. After a little pep talk, Nikki bought into the idea of it. It was time to smash some heads together and maybe bust a few ribs on the meatheads.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The addition of Nikki to the team was met with quite a bit of stir. Yet by the end of the first practice, he proved his worth; having gained respect from some, and threats from others. The lithe-framed 17 year old kid was a beast out on the field. Fear? What’s that? He might just be the team’s secret weapon. He just needed to learn how to direct his anger away from his teammates and towards the opposing team.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At half time, the teams were tied. It’s been a fierce game. Nikki wasn’t in the mood to cavort with his teammates, so he slipped away and ducked beneath the bleachers for a pick-me-up. He had some crosstops stashed in his uniform.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as the last pill tumbled down Nikki’s throat with a dry gulp, the monstrous sound of the school’s marching band fired up. Nikki always had quite the flair for music, but brassy marching band numbers didn’t quite give him the same rush as rock and roll. Still, there was nothing else to do, so he positioned himself to watch, finding a vantage while remaining in the shadows. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The only instruments in the bunch, which Nikki gave credence to, were the drums. They sounded tight. Then it happened, the trainwreck…. A klutzy bass drum kid lost his footing and went down. Four more backwards moving drummers also went down, unaware of the obstacles on the ground behind them, as they stepped back. Nikki bit his cheek to stifle laughter, as he looked out at this sloppy pile of humiliated drummers. A few other drummers were freaking out, trying to get their friends back to a respectable position.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki’s eye took notice of a tall drummer, who was seemingly unaffected by the pile-up. Not just physically unaffected. He just didn’t give a shit about the clusterfuck that was unfolding around him. He just continued to hit his drums hard, spinning his sticks and tossing them in the air, as to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>forget about that sorry, fucking mess, take a look at me</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>they sucked anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As he continued to showboat out there, some of the onlookers started clapping and shouting out woots. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T-Bone!!!” a few teens hollered from the stands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The fanfare was thick in the air. That is until a kid, who appeared to be the drum major, confronted the burgeoning soloist. Nikki took notice of the hostile posturing from the rogue drummer in response. This kid was scrappy. He flipped the bird towards the drum major for his finale.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drum major balled up his fist. The tall one unfastened his drums and threw his hat off. Halftime had just become a real show. That was until someone from the faculty finally came out to the field, and yanked the hatless drummer, with long, wavy brown locks, off the field.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki was smitten. Not only was that kid handsome, but fierce, and a damn good drummer. Nikki, who enjoyed playing the part of a rebel, dove headlong into the party scene in Seattle picking up a shit ton of bad habits and behavior. Drinking, drugs, promiscuity, and mischief. It was all an escape. It made him feel good; girls and guys, he didn’t care, as long as he was out having fun, and not a home. That drummer looked like someone who knew how to have a good time, and not give a fuck about anything else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki strutted around the locker room after their victorious game, wrapped in a towel. He decided to forego a shower to see if he could track down that drummer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Jim,” Nikki beckoned, as a freshly showered, towel-wrapped teammate rounded the corner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up, Feranna,” Jim asked, as he opened up his locker.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s that tall drummer on the marching band?” Nikki asked, with a nondescript face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The jock turned towards Nikki, while holding onto the door of the locker, and gave him a skeptical look. Not just any look, a head to toe up and down look. “Why do you want to know?” Jim asked, zeroing in on the thick game stripes underneath the new kid’s eyes. “What’s with the make-up? You some sorta--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fag?” Nikki replied, with a slight curl on his lip. He knew exactly what this </span>
  <em>
    <span>tough guy </span>
  </em>
  <span>was thinking. He didn’t like his unique look. The make-up, the hair dye, the earrings. Nikki raised his clenched fist above his head, as he leaned up against the lockers. He cracked a few knuckles for an extra effect. “Just because I wear make-up, doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jim glanced at Nikki’s bloodied knuckles from the game, then back to his face. He threw off a casual shrug, as he reached for his shirt; an action that signaled he was backing down. “Don’t know anyone else on the team that puts make-up on their face…. that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to be starting a band. I need a good drummer. What’s the tall kid’s fucking name?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Tommy. Don’t know his last name.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Nikki replied, as he too put his shirt on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jim felt uneasy about dropping his towel to finish getting dressed. Nikki sensed his hesitation. So to heighten the uncomfortable mood, he dropped his own towel, completely exposing himself. Nikki kept his eyes on Jim, as he slipped on his tight jeans. He watched the towel player shift his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, as he tried not to look down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you wear underwear, loon,” Jim growled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Make my ass look better.” Nikki said, with a devious smirk. He slipped his boots on, slung his bag over his shoulder, then slammed his locker shut. Nikki saw a blush in the jocks cheeks as he turned on his heel to leave. “Hey Jim!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What!?” the kid barked in returned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good game,” Nikki said, with a thumbs up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Later, Feranna.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-----------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The following Monday in school, Nikki kept an eye out in the hallways for the drummer, but had no such luck spotting him. Just as he had no success finding him after Friday night’s game. He asked two of his friends if they knew anything about him, but they did not. It was a long shot. They type of friends that Nikki has, most likely wouldn’t socialize with someone from the marching band. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki’s search continued, asking another guy from his team if he knew anything about the tall kid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you asking?” Rick inquired, with an arched brow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it matter?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rick looked down at Nikki’s fingers… they’re singed. “Who sent you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Nikki snarled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the new kid. Just need to know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look man. I need a fucking drummer for my band. Where can I find him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Today…. 2:45 behind the athletics shed. He doesn't like no bullshit you know,” Rick huffed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki knew what was going on. This kid Tommy... he deals. “No problem, man. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki wasn’t sure what would be the best way to approach the drummer. He thought that waiting until the business deals were done would be his best shot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was nearly 3pm, and Nikki stood around the corner of the athletic shed, out of view. He waited until it appeared that the last of three kids made their scores. He watched as the drummer glanced around, then ran his hand through his hair; a move to settle nerves. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, as he began to take long strides back towards the main campus. That is until Nikki stepped out from the side of the building and intercepted his path.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drummer eyeballed him skeptically. “Hey, man,” he said, as he continued on his way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Got a minute, Tommy?” Nikki asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I know you?” he replied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know my name?” Tommy inquired. He was feeling uneasy. His rule…. he doesn’t take anyone new, unless he has a heads up from someone trusted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My name’s Nikki. I saw you drumming at the game.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy looked at the freak standing in front of him, a few head to toe glances. “That’s what I do,” he replied, taking another step away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on the football team. I was watching the halftime show from under the bleachers.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy relaxed, once he decided that he’d seen this kid before. He knows he has. The football player had a unique look that caught his eye one day. He found it strange that the kid was on the team. He didn’t seem to fit the part. “Yeah, I’ve seen you before.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess that you’re on your way somewhere, so I won’t keep you. But, I’m looking to put together a band… a rock band. I play bass and I write songs. I saw you drumming, and I thought you were good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Tommy!” another kid calls out from across the way, trotting towards him. “I thought I missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy looked pissed. “Stop right there! I’m busy, stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look man. It’s obvious to me what you do. I don’t give a shit. I’m new here, but I already have a source. I used to do what you do where I used to live. Go take care of that dumbass. I can wait if you wanna talk music,” Nikki suggested, with a shrug.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy drew his lips tight, and offered a firm glare to Nikki; still unsure what his intention was. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki put his hands in his pockets as he waited. He heard the irritation in Tommy’s voice towards the buyer from across the way. The kid was stupid, yelling Tommy’s name through the air. You don’t do that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a minute, Tommy made his way back to Nikki. “That guy’s an idiot. Now what were you saying? You’re starting a band?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I was in a few bands in Seattle. That’s where I came from. It was more or less a hobby to my friends, but I know what I wanted. Seattle just wasn’t the right scene though. So now that I’m here, I’m not gonna sit around on my hands. I wanna make something happen. It’s why I’m here asking you. Nothing is going to happen for me if I don’t make moves,” Nikki said, as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and fished one out. He lit up with his Zippo lighter, then snapped it shut, as he blew out the initial plume of smoke. “Want one?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy looked at the handsome kid before him. Lined glass green eyes, which radiated from underneath dark, jet black strands of hair. The kid’s chin jutted out into the air, as the smoke flowed out between his strawberry lips. He held the box of smokes out. Tommy felt a stir from within. 16 year old Tommy, felt pulled in both directions between males and females. Setting his eyes on one, then gazing upon the other when boredom sets in. But the drummer couldn’t seem to peel his eyes off of this one. He might not ever get bored with him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy pulled a cigarette from the box, and within three second a flame was dancing before him for a light from the extended hand of the bass player. He dipped in, and blew out his own smoke. Both boys offered a smirk to each other, as they walked back towards the main campus, talking about music.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki stood on the balcony blowing smoke from his lips, which was quickly carried off by the breeze. Nikki’s hair blew across his eyes, as he gazed out. Thinking perhaps. “What the fuck are you looking at,” Nikki asked Tommy, who was seated in a chair next to him. His feet were propped up on the balcony railing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Tommy replied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?” Nikki asked, with a snarled brow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For finding me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Nikki demanded to know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the way you’re standing… looking out. It reminded me of the day we met. You gave me chills. I have that image etched in my head.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you getting all sentimental on me?” Nikki offered a smile, finally.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One of my favorite days.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? I thought I scared you shitless; thinking that I was there to bust you or jump you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That feeling went away quickly; replaced by others. And feel free to jump me now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now? Vince is gonna be home soon with a box of our new records.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. Who cares,” Tommy replied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just anxious, I guess. Our first fucking album. I wanna play the shit out of it the minute Vince comes home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a cure for anxiety.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikki flicked his stub from the balcony. “You’re the cure for all my ailments. C’mon, baby… to my room,” Nikki relented, grabbing the drummer’s wrist to pull him inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re gonna make it, Nikki,” Tommy gushed, trailing behind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep, and we’re gonna make it now,” Nikki replied, kicking his bedroom door shut. Maybe he’s not so eager for their roommate to get home. The record can wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first chapter of my next book will most likely post sometime next week. It's not definite, but I think it will be titled "Face Down in the Dirt." It's a song title off of the SOLA album, and it's based off of another reader's request.</p>
<p>Also, the above bonus story was my first attempt at writing in the past tense. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. It's just that I need to break old habits and work with a different mind set. My next story is still present tense, as I began work on it before deciding on the stylistic change; with the exception of the first chapter, which is an account of past events.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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